Stockholm
by ItsACharmedLife
Summary: Emily is struggling with her identity as she finds some part of her can't let go of Ian Doyle. She runs to Derek, but she's living two lives now: one inside her head and one with the rest of the world. When she is kidnapped and tortured by a man with ties to her past, will her team come in time to save her again? It may cost them more than they're willing to risk. -Eventual DEmily-
1. Lauren

**So, this is a little piece I put together. I just got into Criminal Minds, and Prentiss is by far my favorite. I love the story with her and Ian Doyle. This is just something that I thought of while reading through some other fanfics. I hope you enjoy!**

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'If I am what I have, and I lose what I have, who, then, am I?'

-Erich Fromm-

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**STOCKHOLM**

My first coherent thought after the nightmare was 'get to the bathroom'. A second later my stomach lurched, and I knew I wasn't going to make it. I leaned over the side of my bed and wretched up what little food I'd managed for supper. When I was done, I leaned back against my headboard and pulled my knees to my chest. I couldn't make myself stop shaking. I tried to remember the entire nightmare, but, like always, I only remembered his eyes.

I gagged again, but there was nothing to come up. I forced myself to calm my breathing. I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled through my mouth until I finally trusted my control over myself. "I need to call someone," I whispered. My voice was raspy, and my throat was sore like...like I'd been yelling. No, not yelling, screaming. "Dammit, Emily. Get ahold of yourself." I hissed.

I know I'm alone. Years of extensive training and under cover work had programmed parts of my mind to inspect my surroundings while my conscious mind worked elsewhere. However, that knowledge doesn't ease the sickening dread that I was being watched...that somehow he knew where I am...and the control he still has over me.

My right hand moved to my chest. Through the thin silk nightgown I feel a ridge just under my collarbone. I follow the ridge with my fingertips. I know the pattern so well, as I should. Again I gag on the memory. It's then that I realize I'm crying and sweating through the nightgown.

For the first time, I look at the alarm clock sitting on my nightstand. Great, one thirty in the morning. I'd only gone to bed an hour ago, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep especially with the mess just beside my bed. Without really meaning to, I reach over and grab my cell phone from the nightstand. I stare at it for several seconds before setting it down then picking it back up again. "I can't call them. They'll come. I know they will, but...this is my problem. I need to face it alone. I need to-"

I don't know what I need. All I knew was that I couldn't sleep. I hadn't slept for more than two hours in almost three weeks now. I'd had nightmares before, but this one was different. This wasn't just a nightmare. It was a memory...a fantastic memory that I held close to my heart at all times, but my mind had even taken that away from me. It contorted the memory into something horrific and terrifying. It chilled me to the bones and made me want to scream until my voice drowned out the memory.

I try to catch my breath before I lose control again and send myself into a panic attack. 'Do something' my mind told me. 'Anything.'

I mechanically get out of bed from the opposite side I'd thrown up on. I examine exactly how much of a mess I have to clean up. Fortunately, I hadn't eaten much, so the mess is small. I'll have to have the comforter dry cleaned, but that can be taken care of later. I go to the bathroom, careful not to look at myself, and grab a towel and a wet rag.

Once it's cleaned up, I head back into the bathroom. My mind registers almost instantly what I'd missed, or ignored, minutes ago. The bathroom mirror is shattered. Pieces of glass cover the sink and countertop. I remember then smashing it with my brush just before I went to bed. That was going to be hard to explain to guests, not that I had many, and even harder to replace. Through the cracked glass, I can make out my dark brown hair. My face is contorted as well, but at the bottom of the mirror there is a space of clear glass that somehow managed to escape the carnage of the rest. Through this small space, I see the scar, my scar, his signature.

That's all it takes, and I'm screaming again. I hear my voice raised in fear, but I don't associate myself with that voice. It's too terrified, too weak, to be mine. I fall back against the wall and slide to the ground. My hands, my useless hands, are hanging in the mid-air. What is going on with me? I force myself to stop screaming. The episode is over, and I remember why I smashed the mirror. I never want to have to look at that scar again. I don't want to have to look at anything that reminds me of him, but how can I escape my own body?

I see now, the extent of his madness and my torture, he knew, that even if in the unlikely scenario where he died and I lived played out, that I would have to live with his mark for the rest of my life. I would never escape him. I never had.

Hyper-vigilant. Paranoid. Those were words my team, my family, had called me, but they didn't know that I could never be vigilant or paranoid enough. I, better than anyone else on this planet, knew what he was capable of. I knew I could only ever be safe as long as he was behind bars, and then, only to an extent. I trusted my JTF team to cover my tracks, but there was always the chance that Ian would find a way. And he did.

He found me, and from the first moment I learned of his escape, I knew that the only way I was going to live would be to face him head-on without hesitation. He was used to people waiting just a second too late because of his reputation, and rightly so. Yet, he had known me too well. He knew that I would go looking for him. He knew me better than I know myself.

When I saw his face, I knew it was the face of death, but I felt something that had shocked me, and shook me to my core. I learned, as I looked into his startling blue eyes for the first time in years, that I still loved him, that I had never stopped loving him.

I gasp and make myself come out of that train of thought. I cannot go back down that road again. I cannot be her again. Lauren Reynolds is dead, and so is Ian Doyle, my love. No, I correct myself, her love. She loved Ian. Not me. He loved her. Not me.

That thought breaks my already unstable heart. He never loved me. He loved someone who never existed. He loved a character in a movie, or rather, a prank. I played him first, and this is my punishment. I laugh at the irony. Our story could be one of the great Shakespearian tragedies. A woman tries to trap a man with her love, and he ends up trapping her with his.

"Do you think he was capable of love?" Morgan had asked me shortly after I'd made my way back from the dead.

"He wanted me to marry him, Morgan. He wanted me to raise his son, and while he did have ulterior motives for the latter, I see no reason for the first." I had answered with such surety then. Never, in the years that had passed between our meetings, had I ever doubted our love for one another.

I was a trained profiler. He was a skilled liar, but there is one thing that no one on the planet can fake: love. When he looked at me, it sent shivers down my body. When he said my name, I wanted him to never stop talking. Our bodies, and if the all the stories are real, our souls were connected in a way that I've never experienced with another human being.

How many men had I been with since him? And yet, I could never get the taste of his lips out of my mouth. No one could ever give me the feeling I had when he caressed me. No one had ever taken my breath away again. I was ruined, soiled, by memories that could never be replicated. Memories that were all lies, but beautiful ones. I had let my guard down. I had allowed him, with all his charm and wit, to entice me into forgetting who I really was.

Perhaps, if it hadn't been so easy to let go of Emily, of myself, then I could have come out cleaner, but once I felt love, knew what love meant, how could I go back to a world where that didn't exist? How could I go back into a world without him?

After months, years, of trying, I finally managed to get myself back out of the compartment of my mind I had hid away in while Lauren ruled my life. It had been a survival tactic in the beginning. I needed to be Lauren, so he wouldn't suspect anything. Always, at any moment, I could pull Emily out of the recess of my mind and be her again, but after spans of days, weeks, sometimes months, of being solely Lauren because Lauren knew love, I became her. Only after I found a new family, a new kind of love, had Emily been able to pull herself back to the surface then he came back, and everything changed.

I realized how much I missed being Lauren, being held in his arms, being the only recipient of his kisses. I was the only person in the world he confided in. I was his world, and he was mine. No, he was her world, and she was his...I'm not quite sure there's a difference, but I know there should be.

One thing will always be certain in my mind. This one simple fact gives me the strength to stand and face the mirror again. I position myself where my scar, his mark of eternal affection, is visible in the space of untarnished glass. "I will always love you, Ian." I whisper, and I feel like myself again.

* * *

'Perhaps it is impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be.'

-Orson Scott Card-


	2. Emily

**So, I said this was going to be a one shot, but I kept trying to think of story lines for an Emily Revelation, and I just kept coming back to this. It's my first crack at a romance, so please be nice. Critiques and comments are always welcome! **

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"It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story."

-Patrick Rothfuss-

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The rain is relentless as it beats down on me. I was stupid to have not brought a jacket, but, in my defense, I wasn't in my best mental state when I left my apartment. Perhaps that's how I ended up in front of Derek Morgan's door, soaked to the skin, without any intent to actually go in. The porch light is on as if he was expecting me tonight, or maybe he leaves it on every night just in case I decided to take him up on his offer.

At one point, it must have seemed like a good idea to run to him. We were partners, friends. We trusted each other with our lives. Well, we did until I went rogue and abandoned my team. That had severed my relationship with every member of the BAU team in ways I would have never thought possible.

Reid could barely look at me out of anger. I had betrayed his trust. I had opened up old wounds that had never quite healed. I had abandoned him just like his father for reasons even his super mind couldn't understand.

JJ wasn't as bad, but there was still doubt and hesitation in her voice when she talked to me like she was afraid to say the wrong thing when before our conversations had flowed in friendly banter for hours.

Garcia seemed the most willing to put all of this behind us, but she's always been like that with everyone. She chooses to see the good in people rather than their shortcomings. Her innocent yet provocative humor has been a source of refuge for me these first few weeks back.

Hotch is Hotch. He internalizes everything, but I can always feel his eyes on me, watching me, waiting for any sign that I'll run away again. He won't say it, but I know he doesn't think of me in the same way anymore. He doesn't want to believe that I could keep something so dire from him. He's been like a father to me since I took this job. I know it must hurt him so bad to think that I don't trust or love him with the same affection.

Rossi has taken it in stride. He claims he knew I was always alive. "JJ's not as good of a liar as she thinks." He keeps on saying. However, he's always gravitating towards me without realizing it. Sometimes, I catch him looking at me, and he just smiles purely back at me. It's impossible for me to decipher Rossi, but I can see it in the way he moves that everything he does is to protect me now, like at any second, someone could come up snatch me away from him.

It's in all their eyes: anger, frustration, betrayal, loss. But I think the worst of it is the guilt. The guilt that is written so plainly on all of their faces, and none more so than the man whose doorstep I'm standing on now.

I pull out the key I had just enough mind left to grab before I ran out of my apartment. I roll it in my fingers. Derek had given it to me the first night I'd come back. He was still so shocked and angry that he could hardly stand to be in the same room as me, but he had taken the time to go out of his way and give me a key to his apartment. "Just is case you ever need anything," he had said and walked away before I could respond.

I never thought I'd use it. I'd always handled things on my own, or at least tried to. I think about Matthew and how I never would have made it out of the darkness I'd fallen into after my abortion if it weren't for him. I think about my team who saved me from losing myself after I'd pretended to be someone else for almost a year. I think of Morgan who I need so badly to comfort me right now when my monsters won't go away. I realize I've never been as independent as I thought.

Blood mixes with rain water in my hand as the cut across my palm continues to bleed out. I'd tried to clean up the broken pieces of glass from my bathroom mirror, but I'd only succeeded in cutting myself. At the sight of my own blood, I bolted. I bolted _here, _to him.

Numbly, I put the key into the lock and turn it. The door gives way, but I can barely see into the apartment. "Derek," I whisper before realizing how stupid I'm being. He's asleep, probably has been for hours. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't intrude into his life like this, like I still deserved for him to comfort me, but I couldn't make myself turn away and run back towards my house where I knew Lauren would be waiting for me.

"Em-Emily?" A voice, _his_ voice, says from the recess of the apartment. Almost instantly, a lamp in the middle of the room turns on, and I can see the silhouette of several pieces of furniture and of his form.

"Derek, I didn't mean...I didn't want..." Nothing sounds good enough to explain why I'm standing on his doorstep in the middle of the night. There's no justifiable reason for it other than I wanted to see him. I wanted to know that this world, this world where Derek Morgan got to hold me in his arms and not Ian Doyle, still existed, but I couldn't tell him that.

"Emily, get inside. It's raining." His voice is completely coherent now. I hesitate another second, and that's the only provocation he needs to grab something from his couch and rush to me. He pulls me inside, wraps a blanket around me, and closes the door.

"T-Thank, you," I whisper for the first time realizing that I'm shivering. I pull the blanket tighter over me, but my wet clothes have most of it soaked before I can really appreciate its warmth.

"Emily," he keeps saying my name as if to assure himself that I'm here, "let's get you out of those clothes." Before I can protest, he bounds up the stairs that must lead to his bedroom and is gone. Seconds later, he comes back down with clothes and a towel. "The bathroom's right there." He gestures.

In the dim light, I can just make out his expression. It's completely free of the things I had expected: curiosity, doubt, maybe resentment. Instead, he only looks concerned. I remember he had looked that way just before I lost the energy to even hold my eyes open after Ian stabbed me through the gut. Everything about that memory is vague except his face. I will never forget the look of pure terror when he thought he was going to lose me. Only in my deepest nightmares can I imagine his eyes when he was told he had.

"Thank you," I repeat. There's so much more attached to those words than just gratitude for the dry clothes, but I'll start by thanking him there. Everything else can wait until I've changed.

Once that was accomplished I stepped back out into his living room to find that all the lights were on now, and he was sitting on his couch with his elbows propped on his knees and his head buried in his hands. "Derek," I murmur.

He quickly turns around to look at me. "Do they fit all right? I didn't know what size you were-"

"They're fine," I say before he starts rambling. "All though, I'm sure I don't want to think about that fact that I'm wearing one of your 'friend's' clothes."

"No, they're new. I-" he stops explaining and looks down at his hands again. I've never seen him so vulnerable. Words and flirtations have always come easy for him, at least since I've known him.

"New? You bought these...for...for me?" Suddenly, I feel even more guilty about coming here.

He nods his head without looking at me.

"And the fact that you're sleeping on your couch and the porch light is on...that's all for me." I don't say it as a question because at this point I know the truth. Everything Derek has done for me since I've been back has been nothing short of doting. Why am I surprised that even when he should be home relaxing, he's taking every step to make sure I can be taken care of?

"I don't want you to think you're alone again." He finally looks at me which isn't good because I'm frozen in place. His words are like knives to my heart. They manifest all of my fears where it is impossible not to confront them...not when they're coming from him.

"I know...I know I'm not alone." I respond.

He nods his head again seemingly satisfied for the moment. "I'm glad you came," he finally says after several seconds.

I don't know why, but I feel like he knows the tiny psychotic break I'd experienced back at my apartment. It must be written all over my face. Was it possible that he knew I was struggling with my identity? With my own mind?

Profiling the mentally ill was what we did for a living, but was I really so easy to read that he could pick up on it so quickly?

I reigned in my paranoia enough to walk over and take the spot next to him on the couch. Every second felt like another stab to the heart. I hated myself for making him go through this. He looks at me, and I can see my reflexion in his dark eyes. Another second goes by, then another, and soon, we've been staring at each other for what feels like hours.

"I missed you," he finally says.

"I know...I'm sorry. I missed you, too."

"Promise me you'll never leave like that again."

I think back to my bathroom where I'd slipped so easily back into being someone else completely, and I know I can't promise him that without lying. Any second, she could force her way to the surface, and I won't be Emily anymore. "Derek, I-"

"Just promise me, Em. Please." His voice is so pleading that this time my reaction is instant.

"I promise."

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I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.

-Charlotte Bronte-


	3. Memories of Blueberries

**Firstly, thank you for the reviews. They mean so much!**

**This update is really quick, but I will be leaving for Romania on the 25th of this month for about two weeks, so needless to say I won't be able to update much. This chapter is a little longer. I don't know if the trend of longer and longer chapters will continue, but we'll see. Tell me what you think, and maybe give some suggestion on where the story should go from here! Input is always welcome!**

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"Remembering is easy. It's the forgetting that's hard."

-Brodi Ashton-

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Derek fell back asleep not long after we decided on sleeping arrangements. I told him he should go to his bed since his ploys worked: I was in his apartment. He insisted that I take his bed, but I refused to put him out any further. Finally, we agreed that I would sleep on the couch and he on an air mattress in the living room.

That's where he was now, lying just feet away from me. He had placed the air mattress in front of the couch but still where he was between me and the door. I don't know whether he was scared I was going to leave or that someone was going to try and take me. Both had happened before.

Sleep came in spurts for me, but it was never restful, not even with Derek in the room. I knew I was safe. I knew that no one on the outside could hurt me, but the trouble wasn't outside anymore. It was inside. I rolled over, facing the back of the couch, hoping that sensory deprivation would force my mind to relax. "My name is Emily Prentiss..." I kept repeating quietly. "My name is Emily Prentiss. My name is..."

The words became my mantra, and soon I felt myself slipping back into sleep.

What felt like moments later, I woke up to the sound of someone making coffee. My first registered thought was that I smelled blueberries and maple syrup. I opened my eyes and turned over. Derek wasn't on the air mattress anymore. I slipped out from under my blankets, someone placed an extra one on me while I was sleeping, and allowed my nose to lead me to the source of the smell.

I rounded a corner, and there was Derek, standing in front of his oven, dressed and ready for work. Well, except for one added accessory. There was a navy blue apron tied around his neck. I couldn't help myself. I busted out laughing which caused him to spin around and rip the apron off of himself in one quick motion.

"Emily! I didn't expect...I didn't hear you get up." He looks flustered and embarrassed.

"One of the perks of being a Supervisory Special Agent. They teach you how to sneak up on people," I chuckle.

"I, uh, guess so." He reaches for a plate stacked full of enough pancakes to feed the Brady Bunch. "I made pancakes."

"I can see that. Are you expecting John and Kate to join us?" I lean against the wall, enjoying his obvious discomfiture. "What's the matter, Morgan, not used to your ladies still being here in the morning? Or are you usually the one who sneaks off?"

My inuendo seems to bring him slightly out of his embarrassment. "I'm just not used to them being dressed." He smiles at me. It's a genuine smile. The kind he gave me before he and the rest of the team knew about Doyle, before I left them, twice, and tricked them into believing I was dead. I sure did have a lot to make up for.

"Well, you better get used to it, Bub." As soon as I say the words I know they're the wrong thing to say. Now he will think this is more than a one time thing. He's going to read into it further than he should, and that will leave me scrambling to explain to him that this can never happen again.

His smile broadens. My heart aches because I know this is only going to hurt him more, but also I'm more at peace now than I've been since coming back. The voice in my head that makes me doubt my every intonation or movement is quiet. "They're blueberry," he says setting the plate down on the small circular table that's just big enough for both of us to eat comfortably.

"I love blueberry," I grin. "How did you know?"

"It's my job to know things," now he's the one getting the enjoyment out of seeing me squirm.

"Okay, Mister It's-My-Job, what do I like to drink with my blueberry pancakes?"

"Ah, I was hoping you'd ask." He turns around and opens the refrigerator door. He pulls out a large plastic bottle and shows it off Vanna White style.

I grimace at the bottle of applejuice and huff. "Whatever."

"Admit it!" He shouts, gleaming in his arrogance. "I read you!"

"There's no way to profile what kind of breakfast someone eats." I return, even with my sour tone, I'm enjoying myself. Friendly banter is few and far between with me these days, especially between Morgan and me. Anything I can do to keep a smile on his face is worth it.

"You order a blueberry bagel every Wednesday from the office. My guess is, you probably have yourself on some kind of diet the other days of the week, but you allow yourself this little splurge to get you through the rest of the week. So I figure you must love blueberries. It follows suite that you would love blueberry pancakes."

I start to protest but then snap my mouth shut when it becomes clear how right he is. I cross my arms in front of me. "And the applejuice?"

"That wasn't even hard. You drink applejuice at very complimentary breakfast we've ever ate at."

"Damn it," I curse under my breath. The smell of the pancakes is starting to make my mouth water, and my stomach has been screaming at me since I woke up. Pride, however, keeps me on my feet and my eyes away from the food. "And you just happened to have all these things here?"

He hesitates a second now, and I see that this is just another step Derek has taken to take care of me in the event that I needed it. "Derek..." I forgo the formality of using his last name like I did last night, like he's done since I got here.

"Like I said," he places the jug of applejuice on his small table and takes the seat closest to him, "you're not alone. Sit."

I look at the table. It's as enticing as anything. He's right. I'm a sucker for blueberry pancakes and applejuice. It's what my mother fed me every Saturday morning, at least the ones where she was around. Some of my only happy memories growing up are HerHer and I laughing over pancakes. Of course, as I got older, those laughs turned to awkward silences, but I quit holding things like that against my mother years ago.

I ate blueberry pancakes with someone else...and that memory is all it takes for me to instinctively take a step back. "I need to go home," I say quickly. "I need to get ready for work. I'm sure I'm a mess."

Morgan's eyes widen. "No, I called Hotch. He said if anything urgent came up he'd call us. Otherwise we have the day off."

"You called Hotch?" I gasp. "What the hell did you do that for?" My voice is angrier than I intended it to be, but I can't stop myself from yelling at him. "What did you tell him? That I came running to you in the middle of the night like some kind of damsel in distress? I don't need your help, Morgan. I'll be fine on my own." I can see each one of my words, like a physical blow, on his face. Immediately I want to apologize, but again, my pride keeps me from doing that.

"Prentiss," I notice him returning to using my last name. For some reason, that hurts me. I know it shouldn't, but I loved hearing him say _my_ name. "No, I didn't do anything like that. I just told him that you and I were going to take a day to wind down-"

"I'm sure 'winding down' is exactly what he thinks we're doing," I snap. I swivel on my feet and retreat back into the living room. Before I can reach the door, something grabs my left hand.

"Emily," I can see all the anger drain instantly from his face. He pulls my hand, the one I cut last night on my mirror, closer to examine it. Dried blood cakes most of my palm, and there's a dark, inflamed line running from my thumb to my pinky. "How did this happen?"

I yank my hand out of his. The sudden motion makes me wince, but I swallow the minor agitation. "I cut myself picking up glass from a cup I dropped like night at my house. Speaking of my house, that's where I'm going. I'll see you at the office, Partner."

Without waiting for him to respond, I turn towards the door. I half expect him to follow me, but I know my words have hurt him too much for even him to want to forgive me. Once out on the street, I call for a Taxi which, thank God, happened to drive by within seconds of me stepping out on the patio. I was still dressed in the pajamas Morgan had loaned me last night, and I'm sure I looked like hell.

"Where too?" The driver asks as I slide in.

I quickly tell him my address and do everything in my power not to check to see if Morgan is standing in his doorway or not. The dash of the car says it's six fifteen. I won't be able to take my morning run, but I will be able to make to the BAU on time. I think about having to answer to Hotch about why I'm not 'winding down' with Morgan and groan.

I run my fingers through my tangled hair and sigh. Why am I not taking the day off? God knows I need it, especially after last night. That was by far the worst breakdown I'd had so far, and I didn't feel like they were going to get better before they got even worse.

I stare out the window. Blueberry pancakes...that's the breakfast Ian and I shared the day they came to take him away. He had surprised me by making breakfast and bringing it to me in bed. I was sick with guilt and despair. At the time, I hadn't realized what losing Ian would do to me.

_"What's the occasion?" I ask, as my stomach sank even deeper. Today was the day. Of all days to surprise me with breakfast in bed, he had to choose today._

_"No occasion." He smiled resting the large tray of food on my lap. The smell of blueberries and syrup have my stomach growling, but I feel too sick to eat. I can feel the tears starting to form in my eyes, but I can't cry. I can't blow my cover on the last day. I can't bare to see his face when he realizes that I betrayed him. _

_He sits down beside me on the bed and wraps his arm over my shoulder. Ian kisses my forehead softly. I wonder if that will be our last, and at that thought my heart skips a beat. I turn to look him in his eyes. They stare down at me lovingly. I wonder how he can't see through me right now. How can he not see me falling apart? How can he not see the guilt that is tearing me to pieces? Do I have him convinced that much that even when I'm not trying to hide he can't see my lies, or am I so good of a liar that my body can lie without my brain telling it to?_

_I lean in and brush my lips against his. I try to convey all of my love, my true love, to him with this kiss. I need him to know that this was real. I need him to know that I love him. I know in a few hours he will never believe anything I say again, if I ever get to see him again. "I will always love you," I murmur with my lips still touching his. _

_I feel the smile form on his lips. "I will never stop loving you, Lauren."_

I wipe away the tears that I can't hold back. The driver pulls to a stop. "We're here," he mutters.

"Uh, my money's inside. Can you wait here?"

"Meter's still running," he grunts and turns back around.

"Right," I say as I open the door and sprint to my apartment to find my purse. This little task is just what I need to get my mind focused on the day ahead of me. Lauren doesn't exist anymore, and Ian is dead. Both lovers are gone. Their love should have died with them, but it lives on in me.

I can't think about that right now though because there is a Taxi driver waiting to be paid, and after that, there is a killer to catch, and after that, maybe then I can try to understand why I ran out on the only person who I could ever trust with my secret.

* * *

"All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust."

-J.M. Barrie-


	4. Morgan

"I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

-Marilyn Monroe-

* * *

"Hey, Em, is everything okay?" JJ asks.

I hesitated a second, pretending to still be reading from one of the monstrous stacks of papers on my desk. She was sitting on the edge of my desk, trying to make conversation, something I wasn't in the mood for. I sigh quietly and turn to make an excuse for why I've been so distant the last three days.

"Who is he?" She blurts, a small, mischievous smile forming on the edges of her mouth.

"What?" I gasp. "There is no 'he'. Do you think I have time for a 'he' with all of this?" I motion towards the paperwork on my desk that I'm sure decimated a forest somewhere.

"Emily," her tone is playful, but for some reason I feel myself tensing up. I really don't want to be having this conversation, not here, not where _he_ could hear. I know I can't chance a look at Morgan's desk because that will be a dead giveaway to JJ who already thinks that he and I should be together. "I may not be an expert profiler, but I do have some expertise elsewhere, in the _love _game." Her provocative tone makes me chuckle.

"Is that right? Well, if I ever do get a 'he' I'll be sure to come to you for some advice." I don't mean for my tone to be so dismissive, but I can't let JJ or anyone else know what happened three nights ago. Because if I tell them I ran to Morgan like that then they will think something more is wrong with me. I know whatever is going on in my head is something I have to tackle on my own. I won't drag my team down with me again. That night had been a moment of weakness. I was prepared now.

She waits a second, as if measuring me then says: "Garcia and I are going to go eat at that new Italian place that opened up last week for lunch. Do you wanna come with? It's been a while since our last girl's night." She laughs.

I snort. "Yeah, that's probably my fault. Lunch sounds great. I'm in the mood for Italian, actually."

"Who isn't?" Rossi interjects as he passes by my desk.

JJ and I share a smile, and she gets up. "This conversation isn't over," she whispers then walks away to go take care of some of her own paperwork.

I sigh again, suddenly regretting my decision to go to lunch with them. I look at my wrist watch, it's a few minutes after ten, so I had an hour to come up with some excuse not to go. But I know, short of another international terrorist hellbent on destroying me, nothing will get me out of this lunch. I groan, lay my head down on my desk and close my eyes.

"Something...bothering you, Prentiss?" Hotch asks.

I bolt up and smooth my hair. He's standing in front of my desk, coffee mug in hand, wearing his usual serious grimace. "Uh, no, sir. Nothing's wrong." There's no viable excuse to give him. He's the only one who knows, or can at least guess, what has had me on pen cushions the last few days. I meet his eyes, and I know he's trying to read me, to decipher what exactly happened three days ago.

"Really, Hotch. Everything is fine. I'm just...in an adjustment period." The excuse sounds lame, even to me.

He stares at me for another second then, thankfully, decides to let it pass. "You know where my office is."

I nod as he walks away and sigh again in relief. The day after my visit to Morgan, Hotch had called me in to see what was happening and why I was at work when I should be elsewhere 'winding down'.

"I changed my mind. There's no better way to get back into the swing of things than to just do it. I knew it would be hard coming back. I don't think taking a day off is really what I need." I had said.

"Morgan thinks it is...and I have to agree with him."

"So you're sending me home?" I had been scared. I knew I couldn't go back to Morgan's, and there was no way I was going to spend a whole day alone in my apartment with nothing but my thoughts.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything, but I think you should consider it."

"Hotch, I need...I need to be here." My tone had been more pleading than I intended, but it was the only way to make him understand that I couldn't go home without him becoming suspicious as to why. "I need to be doing something."

He waited a second before responding. "Then get back to work." I turned away to go back to the bullpen when he said my name, my first name. I paused and turned around, surprised.

"Sir?"

"Don't shut us out again." He had looked down at his papers without another word, but I had to stand there for a moment before I could move.

I nodded. "Yes, sir," and returned to my desk. Since then, neither of us have said anything about that conversation, but I know he is still studying me for any sign that I'm struggling more than I'm letting on.

Then there's Morgan who has barely been able to look at me, much less talk to me, for the last seventy-two hours. Thank God we haven't been called out somewhere because there's no way we could be able to work successfully in the field like this.

I look to my right. His desk is empty, save for his own paperwork. He's either flirting with Garcia or in the kitchenette. I decide to check the kitchenette first. The last thing I want to do is draw Garcia's attention because as pushy as JJ could be, Garcia had an uncanny ability to get anyone to talk about anything. Perhaps it was because not even a baby rabbit could find her at all intimidating.

I get up from my desk and start making my way to the kitchenette. I stop when I see him standing in front of the coffee machine. "Morgan," I say. "Can...can we talk?"

He doesn't acknowledge me at first, but then he turns around and leans against the counter. "Talk."

"Okay," I had spent the last three days trying to prepare myself for this inevitable conversation. I had hoped we would be able to do it in private, but this would have to do. I couldn't risk waiting for that call and having to do this in the middle of a case. "I owe you an explanation."

He snorts. "You owe me a lot more than that."

"I know I do. Look," I don't know how to say this to him without telling him everything about me, and Ian, and Lauren. "if I started apologizing for everything I hid from you or did to you in the last six years, we'd be here a while. I can't explain...I can't tell you why I ran to your house that night because I don't understand myself-"

"It's not the running _to _me part I have a problem with. It's the running away." I can see it in his face he's hurt.

"I know. I shouldn't ha-"

"No, you don't know because if you did, you wouldn't have run away." He pushes off the counter and walks by me.

I swivel around. "Which time?" I ask. Tears are starting to form in the sides of my eyes, but I have enough control to keep them contained. "Are you still mad that I didn't include you with Doyle?"

He stops but doesn't turn around to look at me. I think he's going to say something, maybe give me some idea as to what's going on in his head, but when he does speak, I'm only more confused. "If that's what you think, then you really don't understand anything. You push away anyone who could care about you. Why is that?"

"I don't...I don't know."

"Well, you better figure it out." He walks away, leaving me alone in the kitchenette. I grip the counter for support.

"Damn it," I curse quietly. That was not the way I wanted things to go. If anything, now they were worse, and I was even more confused than before. I think back to what JJ said about there being a 'he' then about Morgan. Thoughts had crossed my mind before the Ian thing came to light about perhaps trying to make something come out of mine and Morgan's relationship other than friendship. But they had been just that: thoughts.

I cared about Morgan just like I cared about everyone on the team. Our friendship meant the world to me. He meant the world to me, but I don't know how far those feelings went. I loved him, but did I love him in the way that JJ thinks, or that he wants? Does he even want that?

I'd never been good at the love game, as JJ calls it. My teenaged years were spent bouncing from place to place just trying to fit in. Romance was never an option, and I spent my young adult years busting my ass to get the career I wanted. I'd never stopped to really have a love life. Then, there was Ian.

I stop myself before I go down that train of thought again. Last time, I ended up having a mental breakdown. I couldn't let that happen. Not here. Not in front of them. I look at my wrist watch again. It's after ten thirty now, and it looks like I'm going to have to go on that lunch. I return to my desk and to my paperwork.

Reid smiles at me. Rossi nods, but Morgan ignores me as I take my seat. I glance towards Hotch's office. He's standing behind one of the windows, looking out over the bullpen. I know he must have seen the interaction between Morgan and I. He meets my eyes without any emotion. He hides everything so well. I wish I could do that, but I feel my emotions written all over my face. If he didn't know before, he knows now. I look back at my papers and try to focus, but all I can think about is Morgan sitting right next to me.

* * *

"The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person."

-Chuck Palahnuik-

* * *

**I feel like not much is happening in each chapter, so I think I'm going to start making the chapters longer just to get more in. But the updates won't be so quick. I'll try to get one more in before I leave! Don't forget to tell me what you think! :)**


	5. Ian

"A belief is not merely an idea that the mind possesses. It is an idea that possesses the mind."

-Robert Oxton-

* * *

"Oh, great," I moan when JJ, Garcia, and I round the corner to the Italian restaurant we had planned to eat at. People were lined out the door to get into this place. "Do people not have jobs?"

Garcia chuckles at me. "Darling," she says, "don't fret just yet." She winks at me which makes me turn to JJ who just shrugs her shoulders. Garcia marches forward, successfully maneuvering through the crowd without any trouble.

I try to apologize to them as we pass, but I'm almost sprinting to keep up with Garcia's pace. "Garcia, what are you doing? We can't just cut-" but before I can finish I lose sight of her bright pink and orange garb and she's through the door. I groan loudly.

"I'm sure she knows what's she's doing." JJ said by my side, but I can hear the doubt in her voice.

I scoff. "There's never a dull moment with her." We push our way through the door where we find Garcia standing in front of a podium. She's talking to the waiter there who seems to be looking at some kind of list.

"Penelope Garcia." She says.

The man types something in on a screen implanted in the podium. JJ and I take each side of Garcia. "What are you doing?" I whisper.

"Getting us a table. Just watch."

After another second, the waiter nods his head. "Ah, yes, Mrs. Garcia. Table for three. Right this way."

Garcia smirks at me and follows the waiter. JJ and I share another incredulous look, but we both take off in their direction. The waiter seats us at the only empty table in the entire restaurant, takes our drink orders, then leaves.

JJ and I both stare at Garcia. "What did you do?" JJ asks. There's a small hint of accusation in her voice. "We just decided to go here this morning. There's no way you could have made a reservation in time to...oh." I look at JJ who seems to have been able to make some connection that I couldn't.

Garcia smiles mischievously. "It helps to have the world's most prestigious hacker-queen as a friend doesn't it?"

I grin at her. "You are terrible. You could get arrested."

"By who? You? Go ahead, Sister. Slap 'em on me, but can I have my tortellinis first?"

I roll my eyes. "Only if you buy mine."

* * *

Lunch is filled with friendly banter, inuendos, sarcasm, and everything else that made our friendships work. I'm surprised at how at ease I feel despite JJ's promise that our earlier conversation wasn't over. Perhaps she won't bring it up in front of Garcia because she knows, or at least respects, that I don't want my private life streamed over the world wide web of Penelope's mouth.

"So," JJ said after a few seconds of silence. We'd all finished our meals ten minutes ago, but no one was in a hurry to get back to the BAU. "Emily," she sets down her drink and looks me dead in the eyes, "who is he?"

Garcia lets out a small squeal and leans forward, hands under her chin. Her quirky style and personality examining me in full force.

"I already told you...there is no 'he'." I stare down at my almost empty plate and hope that they will let this slide, but I know that Garcia has never let a rumor slip between her fingers before.

"There is totes a he! O.M.G. my ass-kicker's finally got a beau. Is he cute? Does he have an accent? Of course, he does. You're definitely the foreign type."

I groan quietly and glare at JJ. The blond simply shrugs her shoulders and takes a smug drink from her glass. "Penelope, there isn't a guy. I promise. I just got back to Virginia three weeks ago. I haven't even had time to unpack all my boxes."

"As long as you have a bed there's plenty of time for romance."

JJ spews her drink everywhere and guffaws. "Penelope! You have to warn me before you say something like that!"

I roll my eyes dramatically at the both of them. "This conversation is over. I'm going to go pay my bill then get back to the BAU before this turns into a full fledged interrogation."

"No, no!" JJ grabs my arm and pulls me back into my seat. "We're sorry." She chuckles, unapologetically. "We'll let it go. Won't we, Pen?"

Garcia snorts. "You'll let it go." She grunts loudly and glares at JJ. "Did you just kick me?"

"That depends. Can you be good?" JJ smirks.

Garcia points her tongue. "You're no fun since you became a profiler."

I'm glad the conversation is off me again, but I know no matter what Garcia says she will keep prying until she is convinced that there really is no man. I wonder if there's any cyber way of finding out where I was three nights ago. If there is, she'll find it, and all hell will break loose.

Garcia and Morgan aren't romantically involved. Their relationship baffles even Hotch I think. Their flirtatious manner, and constant inuendos leave even me blushing sometimes. They're more like brother and sister than anything else, but if Garcia even got a wiff that there was a _chance_ I was seeing Morgan there would be no going back. And that's all I wanted. I wanted things to be like they were before Ian.

"Okay," Garcia starts, "I'm not allowed to ask about your current romances, but am I allowed to ask about previous? I mean, I've known you for almost seven years, and I've never even seen with a man more than once."

JJ holds her hand over her mouth. A small, choking noise comes from her throat. She looks at me sheepishly. Now, her look is apologetic. She knows she threw me to lions.

"I mean, I'm not calling you a slut or anything," Garcia quickly continues. "I'm just curious."

"But it's none of your business." I retort. Garcia's eyes widen. She looks slightly hurt, and I know in Penelope's mind, she hasn't done anything wrong. Her job is to pry, to find out people's secrets just like mine. We do it in completely different fashions, but it's essentially the same thing. I can't stop reading people, and she can't stop snooping. I shouldn't hold it against her, but I do because I don't want them to know anything about what's going on in my head.

"I-I'm sorry," she says quietly.

The pathetic look on her face and her quick, pleading, glances at JJ are enough to break my heart. "Pen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it...I'm not being fair. What...what do you want to know?" I'm opening myself up for a lot of mistakes. One wrong word, one wrong intonation, and all my secrets could be laid out on the table.

Her face brightens. I chuckle lightly. "Okay, hm," she rests her chin on her hand and drums the table with the other hand. "let's see. What do I want to know about our little ninja's ultra-secret, no database on the planet can crack because believe me I tried, love life...how about..." she perks up and looks at me. For some reason, I'm more terrified than if she had been holding a gun to my head. "have you ever been in love?"

"In love?" I ask. It must seem like a harmless question to her, but I know how much damage my answer could do.

"Yeah, you know, like _in love_, like, oh, I never want to take my eyes off you, love."

I glance at JJ who has a proud smirk on her face, and I realize this was her plan all along. She knew I wouldn't be able to fend off Garcia. I want to be mad at her, but I can't. I turn back to Garcia. "Yes, I have been in love." I answer reluctantly.

"WITH WHO!?" She exclaims, causing the tables on either side of us to glare.

I tap my fingers on the table, measuring her look, and measuring my own emotions. I could tell them the truth. I want someone to know how I feel, or how Lauren feels. I know I can trust them. Hell, they risked their lives, their careers, to save me. I owe them the truth, but if I tell them, it makes it real. I won't be able to runaway from this anymore.

I sigh, making up my mind. "His name was...Ian."

I don't meet their faces, but I hear the small gasps escape each of their lips. I put all of my focus on my plate, refusing to look at them. I feel stupid and childish. I shouldn't have told them. They'll think I'm crazy, or worse, they'll believe that I'm just like him: another UnSub.

"Em..." it's JJ who's talking. She sounds sympathic, confused, maybe even understanding, but I still don't look at her.

"Don't," I say. They both are quiet for several seconds. Still without looking at them, I push myself away from the table. "I think I will head back to the BAU now."

"No," Penelope says. I turn to look at her. She is truly apologetic in her expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I didn't know..."

"That I love an international terrorist?" I rub my eyes and slowly lower myself back down into the chair. Just revealing this much has exhausted me, but for some reason I want to keep going. I want them to know every last little detail, so that maybe they can make some sense of it. Maybe they can help me understand why I can't forget about him.

"Love...or loved?" JJ asks. I stare at her.

"Loved. I meant loved..." but even I don't buy my words. I sigh heavily. "I don't know."

"Emily, he tried to kill you. He almost did. He killed innocent people. He-"

"I know that!" I hiss, interrupting JJ. "I know that," I say quieter. "But..." for how long these thoughts have been running through my mind I should have found a way to say them that made any semblance of sense, but once I imagine putting them into words, I realize how ridiculous all this is. "when you go undercover, you don't just change your name. You change...everything.

"I spent months learning every facet of Lauren Reynolds's life. Every time I looked in the mirror, I told myself I was her. I...studied her, learned her habits, her mannerisms. I adopted her sense of right and wrong, her taste in men...they teach you to compartmentalize everything, so that when the times comes for you not to be that person anymore, the real you is still locked up somewhere in there."

"You told me before that you compartmentalize better than most." JJ said.

I nod. "I thought I did. When I was supposed to leave Lauren behind me, I found that parts of us had...I don't know...I guess, _mixed. _Her feelings were still my feelings. She loved Ian. They were perfect for each other in every way."

"Except she wasn't real," Penelope interjects. "You were Lauren. She was like a...character."

_A character, _that was the perfect way to describe her. She was a character I played to entice and control Ian, to learn his secrets and exploit them. "I don't know where along the way it quit being just Lauren who kissed him or reached for his hand in the middle of the night, but only after it was gone, did I realize _I_ missed him, not just Lauren."

"And even after all that's happened, _you_ still have those feelings for him?" JJ's tone is unbelieving, but it's not accusing.

I shrug. "I don't know. I'm still trying to separate myself and Lauren in my head. I had it under control, but after seeing him again...it brought back everything I had buried."

"Do you think he loved you? You guys are saying all the time that these guys can't feel things...do you think that he really and truly cared about you?" Penelope asks.

"He loved Lauren. He wanted her to marry him."

I can see this has an affect on both of them. "What did you...she say?"

I chuckle despite the depressing mood. "Neither one of us are the marrying type."

JJ nods and looks at Penelope who shakes her head slightly. Finally, JJ says something. "Have you...is Lauren still, you know, in there?"

I hesitate a moment. I know that's enough of an answer for JJ. "Have you told Hotch?"

I shake my head and look at her. "No, and you can't either. If he finds out he won't let me keep doing my job, and it's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

"Okay, okay," JJ concedes. She studies me for several seconds before saying anything. "But you have to talk to someone about this. It doesn't have to be someone from the team, but you need to get this out of your system."

"I know. Talking to you guys has helped."

When it's clear I'm not going to elaborate anymore, and that this conversation has put a damper on the light-hearted atmosphere, JJ finally suggests heading back to the BAU.

Before we leave, I make them promise that they won't tell anyone, especially our teammates, about this.

While we're walking back to the office, they both try to keep conversation flowing, but they quickly realize it's pointless. They're both still trying to process what I told them. Perhaps, they can make sense of it and relay it back to me, but I doubt it.

I think about how much I didn't tell them. How prevalent these feelings are for a dead man. How I wish I could go back to being Lauren because I knew he would be there. I, Emily, had never fallen in love. Part of that was because of my lifestyle, and part of it was just my fault. I had never prioritized love like most women.

Emily Prentiss was a worker. She sacrificed everything for her career. She lost herself in work to avoid personal relationships at all costs. Relationships meant someone had to eventually get hurt.

But Lauren had been different. Through Lauren, I had been allowed the life I'd always dreamed of living, carefree, spontaneous, on the edge, without any chance of my heart getting broken, or so I had thought.

"You know," Garcia says startling me out of my thoughts. She pokes me in the ribs with her elbow. "Morgan hasn't taken his eyes off you all week."

"Penelope, considering what I just told you, I don't think that would be a good idea." I say nervously. I feel heat rushing to my cheeks, and I hope my blushing isn't too noticeable.

"Or maybe he's just what you need to get your mind off...things. It's just an idea." She shrugs. "But I've also noticed that you haven't taken your eyes off _him_."

Before I can say anything, she sprints off through the doors of the BAU. I glower at where she had been seconds ago. "She really needs to learn to mind her own business."

JJ pats my shoulder. "She's right though." Now, I glare at her, and she holds up her hands defensively. "No pressure, but it could be good for you."

"And the rules about fraternization between Agents?"

"When have you ever followed the rules? C'mon. What could it hurt?" JJ says before walking through the doors, as well, leaving me outside alone. I rub my hand over my face and sigh. As if my job needed the added stress of two nosey match makers.

"A lot," I murmur before following them.

* * *

"We are so used to disguising ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves."

-François de la Rochefoucauld-

* * *

**So, it's a long(er) chapter like I promised. This is most likely my last update for a while since I'll be AFK for a while. :) Don't forget to tell me what you ****think!**


	6. Something Worse

**Just a forewarning, this chapter kind of takes a hiatus from the original story line. I thought the story could use a little action, but don't worry, it's definitely playing into the hands of all you DEmily lovers. :) **

* * *

"He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still."

-Lao-tze-

* * *

"If there's been twelve kidnappings, why are we just now being asked in?" Morgan inquired. His voice was tense, but I was the only who knew it wasn't just from the new case.

"The UnSub crossed two different state lines and kidnapped over a hundred mile radius. If hikers hadn't stumbled upon his dump site, there was no way to connect the kidnappings." JJ explained.

A solemn quiet settled over us for several seconds before Hotch gave his trademark "Wheels up in thirty" order.

While everyone else was gathering their folders and leaving the conference room, I grabbed Morgan's arm. "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure." He doesn't sound angry or hurt this time which I would take as a good sign, but all of us have become so adept at hiding our feelings it's hard to tell when any expression is genuine.

JJ is the last to walk out besides us. She winks imperceptibly and gives me a small thumbs up. I shake my head, but turn to Morgan who's still pretending to be studying the case files. "We're going out into the field," I start, "we can't let our emotions get in the way of our job. I know I hurt you, or at least I'm starting to understand."

He finally looks at me and attempts to read my face, but I keep talking. "We're Agents first and foremost. I need to know that what happened isn't going to affect us in the field."

"You think I can't do my job?"

"No, I know you can. I just want to hear you say that you still trust me in the field."

He sighs heavily and looks back down at the case files. After several nerve wracking moments, he answers me. "I put my life in your hands before Doyle. I trusted you, and I thought you trusted me." I started to interrupt to tell him that I trusted him more than I've ever trusted anyone else, but he stopped me with one quick hand gesture. "I need to know that _you_ trust me because if you don't believe I've got your back...well, then this isn't much of a partnership is it?" He's looking at me now, studying my reaction to his words.

"Derek," he's visibly affected when I use his first name, "I've always trusted you. I just want to forget about Ia-Doyle. I did what I did to protect you, all of you. I have no regrets about any decisions that I made. I value your life over mine, and I know you feel the same to me. This is a hell of a partnership." I attempt to add a light, joking tone to my voice.

He chuckles. A small smile creeps in around the edges of his lips and his eyes wrinkle. "Then let's go catch a killer."

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER

I moan as I begin to return to consciousness. My head is pounding, and there's a constant ringing in my ears. A concussion, I realize. The skin on the left side of my face feels sticky from what I assume is my own blood when I attempt to look around.

The room spins for several more seconds before I'm able to get a baring on my whereabouts. It appears to be some kind of abandoned barn. It wreaks of animal feces and rotten hay. There's a dim glow coming from cracks in between the wooden walls. It must be getting close to twilight. I try to recollect my last memory before being captured, but the ringing intensifies to a point of stinging pain.

I quickly abandon trying to remember anything, and instead start to struggle against the restraints keeping me in a chair in the middle of the barn. My ankles are tied to the two front legs while my arms are duck taped to beams that run vertically up the back of the chair. The chair isn't connected to the ground. Maybe if I can scoot forward to the door...

But just when I start to make my rescue attempt, the large barn door groans as someone enters. In the dim light, I can only tell that it's a man in his late thirties. He's dirty and dressed in torn overalls. I try to make a connection between his image and the fluttering memories that are starting to come back, but the effects from the concussion are still too strong.

"What the hell did you do to me?" I hiss trying to sound more in control than I felt. The truth was I am completely at his mercy. I wondered where my team was and how I ended up in this mess.

He turns around and smiles sadistically. I can see his yellow disfigured teeth, and his face is unkept as if he hadn't bathed in months.

"Answer me!" I yell. Panic is starting to seep in around my self-control. I wish I could remember any profile we had on this guy, but I can't even remember the details of the case we were working.

"Shut up," he ordered. He moves passed me but close enough that I can smell his body odor. How did he get close enough to me to get me here?

"Are you the man who's been kidnapping all those women?" I take a stab in the dark assuming that what's being done to me has been done to several other women or I wouldn't be here.

"My brother told your Agents this would happen, but they didn't listen. They underestimated him like everyone always does. He's so smart." I can hear him messing with what sounds like tools somewhere behind me.

"Do I get to meet your brother?" Vague memories are finally starting to make sense. We were here investigating nine, no, twelve bodies found dumped in a forest somewhere in Missouri. We had some leads, a solid profile, but nothing to point to any one suspect. We knew his patterns, or rather Reid had deciphered them. We were close. We were so close when the local police station we were working out of received a letter stating if we didn't stop looking, something worse was going to happen.

Of course we didn't stop. We added the letter to the profile and continued searching. I guess something worse had happened after all. I tried to remember how I had gotten here. Obviously a blitz attack, but where? The man with me right now would stand out anywhere in civilization, even in Missouri, so he couldn't have done it.

That left the 'brother'. We hadn't profiled a team. Perhaps this man with me right now had nothing to do with kidnappings. Only the murders. That didn't comfort me at all.

"He'll be here later. He likes to come after it's dark out. He says it relaxes him."

"Does your brother like to kill innocent women too?"

Whatever tools he was messing with drop to the ground. I can hear him approaching me quickly. A hard hand grabs the back of my hair and pulls it painfully back. The smell is acrid, but the fear is worse.

"They are not innocent. They are scum. They didn't make him happy. _Everyone_ makes Jacob happy." The smell of his breath takes mine away for a moment.

"Do you..." I wheeze, "make Jacob happy?"

A childlike smile creeps over his face. He nods vigorously. "I always make Jacob happy." He lets go of my hair, and I let out an audible sigh of relief. Okay, this man isn't the killer. He's obviously a pawn that 'Jacob' uses to control his victims. "You should too, if you don't want to go away."

"What do I have to do to make him happy?" I ask.

The man chuckles. I hear him begin to go through the tools again. "Scream."

* * *

MORGAN'S POV

How could this have happened? How could I have let this happen? I glance over her hotel room, but I already have every detail memorized. The sheets and pillows are strewn across the bed because she had to get up in a hurry. Her gun is lying uselessly on the floor because she hadn't had time to grab it. Blood stains the floor where she had been presumably hit over the head with an unknown weapon.

Her clothes, her books, everything she travelled with are in neat stacks on the far table, but papers still cover most of the floor. The files of the case they were currently working were everywhere like someone had purposefully targeted them.

Written on the wall over the headboard in small, blood red letters read "I told you this would happen."

The anger is too much. I need to get out of here before I put a hole through the wall and contaminate the crime scene.

The crime scene.

I shouldn't have left her alone. Not after the police station received that letter. I should have known he would come after one of us, and I should have known it would be her. We profiled him as someone in need of total control. Every facet of every moment from the time he picked his victims was thought out. He was organized and completely conscious of his choices. He was the most dangerous kind of killer. The kind that rarely gets caught.

But we had been close, and he knew it. So he took one of us. He took _her_. I storm out of her hotel room. JJ is standing there. Her eyes are wide, shaken, scared. I want to comfort her, but the only thing keeping me together is the fact that Emily is out there somewhere and she needs my help. That is my only concern: getting her back safe.

"This is bad." JJ keeps repeating to herself quietly.

"I'm going to find the son of a bitch who did this, and I'm going to end him." I say.

She looks at me and nods, but I can still see the shock written clearly across her face. I wonder if I look that way. This isn't the first time we've hunted Emily, but we barely got her back last time. In fact, we never really got her back. She wasn't the same, but I was still drawn to her.

I still craved her company. I shouldn't have been so hard on her about the apartment thing. I should have tried to understand. I should have...

I quit thinking like that. I _will_ be more understanding as soon as we get her back. As soon as I end the monster who thought he could take her away from me again.

* * *

"Nothing is easier than denoucing the evildoer. Nothing is more difficult than understanding him.

-Dostoyevsky-

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**Uh-oh, tell me what you think!**


	7. Jacob's Brother

**Hello, Everyone! I'm (obviously) back from Romania (which was AMAZING by the way). It's my first chapter back into the story, so I apologize if the writing/storyline seems a bit choppy. I have a good idea for where this is going, and I hope it turns out as great as I imagined it! **

* * *

"The past cannot be cured."

-Queen Elizabeth-

* * *

I tried getting the man to talk again, but after he revealed what was going to happen to me, he slipped into silence that no amount of cursing could coax him out of.

After several minutes of damning him to the deepest pits of hell, I forced myself to regain my composure. Yelling at him wasn't going to save me. I tried to calm my breathing, but there was a sickening dread that I couldn't get rid of. My stomach twisted into knots, breathing was hard, panic and paranoia were seeping in around the edges. Every sound made me jump. I'd only ever felt this way once before, and that ended with a table leg being plunged into my abdomen.

I shut out the memory knowing that if I go into a panic attack now I will never see morning. Darkness has just set in outside the barn. Any minute now, if that man is to be believed, Jacob would walk through the barn doors and the struggle to survive would begin again.

I try to remember our profile. He was meticulous, controlling, a sexual sadist. His victims were all tortured: long, neat cuts down their arms and legs that always avoided the veins and arteries, which led us to believe he had some medical training; broken toes and fingers; burn marks from a branding iron-

My breath gets away from me before I can control it. I whimper, which causes the man who's still behind me somewhere to chuckle. I remember the feeling of Ian's hands holding me still while he dug deeper into my skin with that God forsaken machine. If my hands were free, I would be able to trace where his delicate hands that had once caressed my skin had then destroyed it.

Perhaps death wouldn't be so bad after all. It would end all of this: the confusion, the aching, the fear. It could all be over. It would be slow, but did I really deserve to go out any other way? I hate that I have to leave my team again after they just got me back. They've grieved for me once. Perhaps this time it won't be so hard on them.

The sound of the barn door groaning open again brings me out of my dark thoughts. This is it. I try prepare myself for the worst, but I know that there's no way to really prepare for what is about to happen to me.

There's hardly any light except from a lantern placed behind and to my right. I can only make out that it is a man, white. His age isn't clear at first, but when he steps closer, I can see he's in his early thirties, clean-cut, and well dressed in a suit that stands in stark contrast to his surroundings. For some reason, I can instantly see that it's Italian made. That detail seems important, but I can't figure out why.

My guard clicks in glee when the man whom I assume is Jacob enters. "I have everything ready. I-"

"Leave," 'Jacob' says. His tone leaves no room for disobedience, but there's something else there too. He's trying very hard to hide his accent. I can't decipher where he's from from just one word, but I know we never even considered that he wasn't a local.

The man stutters for a second then bows his head. "Okay," he mumbles and pushes through the doors leaving 'Jacob' and I alone. He doesn't move, and he's too far out of the range of the lantern for me to see his face clearly.

"Are you Jacob?" From the moment he stepped into the barn, the fear that had been solidifying in my bones suddenly evaporated. If this was the end, then there was nothing I could do about it. But I would be damned if I went out like a coward. This bastard wouldn't get the pleasure of seeing me scared.

After a few very tense seconds, he finally turned to face me. The lantern light cast long shadows across his face, but I could see that he was by all standards attractive: sharp features, strong chin, and even in the dim light, shining blue eyes. "I am." This time, he seems to have forgotten his plan, and his French accent is completely recognizable.

I'd been debating whether to tell him that I'm an FBI Agent or not, but that title was probably the reason I was even kidnapped in the first place. "My team will come for me, and when they do, I'll have you strung up like a French Christmas ornament."

A disheartening smile creeps over his face. He chuckles and walks back into the darkness. A moment later, I'm blinded by light. I hiss against the sudden change, and its several seconds before I'm able to open my eyes again. I search for Jacob and find him walking towards one of the stalls. He pulls a gate open which reveals a camera placed on a tripod with a cord that hooks up to a laptop. "I'm planning on it."

His response throws me off for a second, but I maybe if I switched the subject to him I would be able to buy some time. If he really did want them to find me, all I had to do was survive until they got here. "We were wondering what trophies you took. You see, that's what monsters like you do. They destroy lives then take something of their victim's to get off on later. If I've seen it once I've seen it a hundred times. You'd think you guys would get a little more creative sooner or later."

He pushes a button on the camera, and a green light flickers. He focuses the camera where it's pointed directly at me. "I'm not recording. I'm broadcasting. How long do you think it will take your little Analyst to find this feed, hm? Is she even looking for something like that? Oh well. We have all the time in the world together."

"You rat bastard." I snap.

"You do have a tongue on you. I can see why-no, that's a surprise for later. Right now," he grabs a wooden chair and begins to walk towards me. I stiffen when he turns it around and straddles it in front of me but still where the camera can get a clear view of my face. "we have some business to discuss."

"Do we? From what I've seen, your 'business' is pretty straight forward. You could just get it over with." Provoking him is a gamble. It could either escalate him or set him at odds. If he wasn't used to his victims fighting back, that could be my ticket out of this hell hole.

"Is that courage or defeat?" He chuckles. "Oh, c'mon, Emily, don't give up on me that easy. What would Derek think if he knew-"

"_Don't_ say his name." I glare at him, but his smile only broadens.

"There she is," he murmurs. Without warning, he reaches the small distance between us and starts to unbutton my shirt.

I twist away slightly, but the action does little more than to delay him another second. "Get your hands off of me, you dirty-"

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you just yet. Rape is such a nasty business anyways. When you have money, there are much easier and cleaner ways to get what you want. You're a beautiful woman, and I know when I'm out of my league. Ah," he sits back after undoing two more buttons. "And there it is."

I know what he's seeing, but what I don't know is how he knows it's there. Unless he undressed me while I was unconscious. From what I can tell, I lost a whole day. The thought of lying naked, exposed in front of him gags me. "I lost a bet."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, Emily. There is no reason to lie. It's just you and me, and well, the World Wide Web as they call it." His stare is unsettling. The way he looks at me it's as if he knows everything about me, who I am, who I was.

"I'm not lying."

His hand slices across my cheek. The ringing in my ears re-intensifies, and the barn begins to spin. Lances of pain shoot from my cheeks to my spine. "Don't lie to me." His voice is calm, and I glare back at him once I can look straight again.

"I'm not lying." I repeat.

This time I'm prepared, but the pain and disorientation are worse. My head spins longer, and the dizziness and nausea don't go away. "If you think I'm lying, tell me what you think happened." I gasp in short breaths.

"Hm, clever girl. You don't even know the secret, and yet you're already so close to the answer."

I know the concussion isn't the only reason for my confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighs deeply. His eyes linger on my chest which makes my skin crawl. "I'd rather you guess."

"I was never much on guessing games." Fresh liquid is running down my left cheek. I don't know how many blows I can take before I lose consciousness again.

"You'll like this one. Trust me." He grins. My anger flares at the sight of him enjoying this. The disgust of a lifetime of walking toe to toe with monsters like him boils to the surface. "Here, since you seem a bit out of it, how about I give you a clue, hm? You knew my brother."

"Yeah, he's a real winner though he could use a shower."

Jacob busts out in laughter. He rubs his eyes dramatically and chuckles to himself for a while. "Care to let me in on the joke?" I hiss.

"You think..." he grins and shakes his head. "you think that that _swine_ is my brother? Em-il-y, I thought you were smarter than that?"

"He said-" it's then that I catch onto Jacob's tense. I _knew_ his brother. "So if he's not your brother, then who is he and who was your brother?"

"That man is just some simpleton who couldn't tie his own shoe without my help, but he knows his way around a farm. And he knows how to keep quiet. Two things I needed for this operation to work."

"Of killing innocent women? You should have picked a different career."

"From where I'm sitting, and from where you're sitting, it seems like I chose right."

"We'll see if you feel the same way in a few hours when you're being shot full of lead."

He stares at me, as if he found my threat amusing in some way. "We've digressed," he says finally.

"So, tell me then," I eye the camera which is still flashing green. I wonder if Penelope has already found this, if she's listening to every word, typing everything he says into some database until she finds out who he is. Does she know where I am? Are they on their way right now? I hope for her sake that they get here in time. If I have to die, I don't want my last moments to haunt my friend after death. "who is your brother? And why does it matter?"

The same cheeky grin that I've already come to hate creeps over his face again. "That's the question, isn't it? And until you can figure that out, let's have a little fun." He stands from his chair and walks behind me. I hear the sound of shifting metal. His footsteps are light, but I can still hear him approaching behind me.

I brace myself for the sudden shock of pain, but when it finally comes, I can't stop the scream from gurgling from my lips.

* * *

"Nothing inspires forgiveness quite like revenge."

-Scott Adams-

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**I hope you enjoyed this. Read and review. Critiques and praises on anything are always appreciated! **


	8. Made to Suffer

"It will have blood they say; blood will have blood."

-William Shakespeare-

* * *

I wince as he wraps the bandage over my fresh wound running from my right shoulder down towards my elbow. His hands are gentle, trained, but every motion sends new waves of pain lancing through my arm. "Twelve innocent women," I murmur.

"They were only means to an end. I have you, and I have your team running straight to me." His voice is faded. I can barely hear what he's saying, and I don't have the strength to try and understand it.

I'd had enough experience in torture to know why he was healing my injury moments after inflicting it. He wanted me alive longer. As foggy as my mind was, everything about this, besides the prior body count, was pointing towards some sort of personal vendetta. "What happened to your brother?"

I hiss as his hands grip my arm tighter, but he remains quiet.

"I don't know who he is," I confess. "Whatever you think I did, I don't think you have the right person."

He sniggers, but, again, doesn't say anything.

I glance at the camera. The feed has been up for almost ten minutes. Surely Penelope has found it by now. What will she see before they find me? If they find me? I tried not to scream for her sake, assuming she was watching. Somehow, her job hadn't ruined her yet, and I didn't want to be the catalyst that destroyed her light in the already dark world.

"All done," he announces. He takes his original seat in front of me. "How do you feel?"

I glare at him. "Whoever your brother was, he probably deserved what he got."

Jacob chuckles. "Oh, I know. My brother was hard to handle. I have no qualms with his fate. Things like that tend to happen in our line of work."

"Things like what?" I inquire. My head is still pounding from the concussion which makes it hard to keep focused for more than ten seconds. The intervals of pain shooting through my arm are the only thing keeping me coherent.

He snorts. "You Americans. You want everything handed to you without you having to work for it. Once you figure out my brother's identity everything will be clear to you. Trust me."

"I've learned not to trust people who tie me to chairs." I snap.

He nods. "That is a good oath to live by." He lifts his hands in front of his face. In one of them is a long knife coated in blood, my blood. He runs his fingers over the blade. "How about this, one hint, one cut until you guess his name? It's a better deal than the other girls received."

Bile builds in my mouth, and red lines my vision. White hot anger washes over me, empowering me to lunge against my restraints, but the ties hold. "You filthy bastard. I'm going to put the bullet through your head myself. I'm going to watch the life leave your eyes, and then you can rot in hell."

"Such spirit," my threats never phase him. In fact, he seems to enjoy them. I don't care. I won't let him denigrate those girls anymore, not after what he put them through. Even if I die in the process, I swear to all those girls that I will kill him as slowly as possible. I will make him suffer as they did. "I'll take that as a yes."

He stands to his feet, knife in hand. "My brother and I didn't speak to one another for almost thirty years, not since our parents split up, and I went with our mother, and he stayed with our father. We were thirteen. Oh, come now, that's like...three hints for the price of one. Do you know yet?"

I glare at him all the while wracking my brain to try to find something, anything, that would tell me who his brother might be, but I came up empty.

Jacob shakes his head. He grips the handle of the knife and pushes my left sleeve up revealing my entire arm. He presses the cool metal against my skin. I brace myself for pain, but when the knife finally pierces my skin it still takes my breath away. I bite my lip, holding back the scream that's suffocating me.

Black, red, and blue dots line my vision. My mind is screaming, and my arm feels like it's on fire. I refuse to drop my eyes from his face. It only takes him a second, but it's minutes before I'm in control of myself again. The pain doesn't go away, if anything, it increases as the new blood runs down my arm. I can't catch my breath because every time my body moves waves of pain slice through both my arms.

"Bastard," I gasp once I can speak.

"Let's get you cleaned up before you bleed to death. We wouldn't want Penelope to have to see that."

* * *

I'm exhausted, more exhausted than I can ever remember being before. I've lost consciousness more than once, but he always waits for me to hover back into reality. Every time I wake back up, I'm shocked by how much pain I'm in. I had no idea a body could hurt this much. Three marks on each of my arms: each one runs from my shoulder to my elbow. Soon he will have to move on to somewhere else.

"Tell me what you remember," he says every time I wake up, and I recite the clues he's given me to the identity of his brother. Every time, it gets a little harder to remember as my mind is consumed with pain and just trying to stay alive. I know that they are only eighteen months apart, his brother being the older. I know his brother was raised in Ireland by his father while Jacob was raised in France by his mother. His brother was a criminal, someone my team brought to justice.

"He had blue eyes." I repeat the last clue he gave me. I'm too weak to fight him when he grips the waistband of my pajama bottoms and pulls them down to my ankles. I know that I won't be able to last much longer. My mind is almost useless from pain and blood loss, but I know it won't be long now before I'm not able to fight anymore. The answer to his question is somewhere in my head. I know it is, but whenever I try to grasp it, the light ringing in my ears intensifies agonizingly.

I bow my head, and prepare to slip back into peaceful unconsciousness when something hard jerks by head back up. Jacob stares down at me. "No, now you stay awake for the camera."

I look at the camera still blinking green. I know Penelope has found this by now. I know she's probably watching and hoping for some clue as to where I am. Perhaps she's already been able to track his computer. If he wants to be found, then maybe he didn't try to hide this place at all. If that's the case, why has it taken them so long to get here? There's something else wrong too. Why would he want to be found? He has no chance against a whole FBI unit, and Jacob is anything if not meticulous.

That's when I realize that this, me, isn't the end game. "Pen," I cling to what little I have left. I have to tell her this. "It's a trap. Don't come. It's a-" lightning shoots across my face. Black covers my vision, but I can feel the world spinning around me. My head is thrust to the side which causes my arms to scream in protest. Torrents of pain wash over my body pulling me down into blackness.

The world is crashing. The floor is rushing up to meet me. I land hard on my side, still tied to the chair. I can't stop from screaming as pain, more terrible than ever before, continues to rip across my arms. Suddenly, my hands aren't tied anymore, but they hang uselessly at my side. I don't dare to try and move them to defend myself without risking losing consciousness, and I had to tell Penelope. "Trap," I gasp.

Jacob's feet move between the camera and me then it's not just my arms that ache. Something hard connects with my rib cage and the pain is everywhere. I roll over, attempting to escape the barrage, but his foot finds the side of my face.

I taste metal. For a split second, I'm completely numb, then the pain returns in full force leaving me breathless. White hot agony splices through my head, clouding my vision and mind. I don't know how I'm still conscious. I would give anything for this to be over, for the pain to end. I pray Penelope heard me. That she understands. That she knows she can't save me.

Jacob grabs my hair and pulls me to my feet, but I don't have the strength to stand. So he ends up supporting me in his arms. I stare at the camera, willing Penelope to understand that this is what I want. I don't know what Jacob will do once they get here, but I know that if they come for me, they could die, too. My life was forfeit the first moment Jacob decided to capture me, but I could still save my team.

Blood has rushed to the right side of my face, swelling my eye shut, but I can still see the green light flashing from the camera.

"I will kill her, but I can make this go as fast or as slow as I want." He announces. I know his head is right next to mine, but his voice sounds thousands of miles away.

_Pen,_ I try to remember the rest of my team's names, but I can't think hard enough to pull them from my mind. I will Penelope to hear me. _Pen, please, don't come. This is okay. It's not your fault. Please, don't come._

Something soft touches my neck, but with the pain radiating over me, even that small touch stings. "You aren't going to abandon her, are you? How much more can you stand to watch? How much pain does she have to go through before you will rescue you her? Tick, tock."

* * *

PENELOPE'S POV

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." I can't stop saying the words. Those stupid words. What do they even mean? They weren't helping Emily, but I couldn't stop my mouth from repeating them over and over again as I nearly sprinted across the police station.

I saw JJ first. She was in the room with the rest of the team. "Oh my God..." I pause in the doorway. They all stare at me. My throat instantly goes dry, and I can't talk anymore. At least I stop saying those stupid words. _Emily, _I think.

"Garcia, what is it?" Hotch asks. "Have you found something?"

Something? Have I found something? Hell yes I found something. I found her, but...I wish I hadn't. As horribly terrible and wrong as that is, I wished I never would have found her. Not like that. "I...I found a feed. It's Emily. She's..." I can't make myself say it. There aren't words. There could never be words. There shouldn't be words.

Morgan is the first one out of his seat. He flies by me without waiting for anyone else. I stand there useless. I want to help. I want to be doing something, but I can't move. That's when I remember what is written on my hand. I had stumbled on the feed by accident only a couple minutes before. I wanted to tell the team, I probably should have called them as soon as I found it, but the bastard had said _my_ name. I listened as Emily recited clues. I was confused at first, but then I understand what it all meant.

A few strokes of the keyboard and I had my answer, but then reality set it. And so had my panic attack.

I reached out my hand. JJ, who was the closest to me, read the name I'd barely had enough control left to write onto my palm. "Jacob Doyle."

* * *

"Revenge may be wicked, but it's natural."

-William Makepeace Thackeray-

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**:o Tell me what you thought! **


	9. The Awakening of Lauren

**Okay, for some reason, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. It's obviously the longest chapter yet, but I just couldn't stop. I hope you like this because it was really fun to write!**

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"Better to be violent if there's violence in our hearts than to be nonviolent to cover impotence."

-Ghandi-

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Jacob threw me to the ground, but before I could hit the ground, I landed in blissful nothingness. I let it surround me. There was nothing left for me in life except pain. I had done everything I could do for my team. I had to hope that it was enough.

I swam in darkness for what might have been only a second or it might have been a thousdan lifetimes. It was impossible to judge time when it didn't exist here. There was no pain, but I wasn't completely sure I had a body to be in pain. When I looked down, there was still the endless void. I knew I should panic, but I found that I couldn't feel anything besides a numbing calm.

A light appeared right in front of my eyes, or was it across the world? There seemed to be no way to determine its distance from me or its breadth. It could have been the size of a marble or as big as the sun. It cleared a path of light in front of me, but the void was still there on every side of me. Without really knowing how, I knew if I looked away from the light into the void I would be lost in its endless depths forever.

_It's not your time, Child. There is a time for life, and a time for death. _The voice boomed, echoing of unseen surfaces, and yet it whispered gently to me. It was terrifying and comforting, powerful and soft, all-knowing and brilliant. My being rejoiced in the voice, but I had no idea who it belonged to. I started to run along the path of light, but my destination never seemed to get any closer. I was running into eternity.

Then the light started to fade, and finally panic seeped into my calm. The void swallowed me, but instead of nothingness, I was engulfed in pain. I moaned against it, begging the Voice to take it away, but my relief never came.

I felt my physical body again, felt every cut, every bruise. I inhaled painfully as my lungs demanded air. Metallic bile filled my mouth, and I turned my face to the side to purge the foul liquid.

My mind was finally clear, but that only sharpened the pain. I tried not to move, hoping that would ease the aching, but my entire body still screamed at me for allowing this to happen.

With my new clear mind, I discovered something else. I was not the only one in my head anymore.

_Hello, Emily._ Lauren glowered. I felt her anger, a completely separate emotion from my own, directed straight at me.

"No," I groan. This can't be happening. She wasn't here. She wasn't even real.

_Oh, Emily, but I was always real. I am everything you are not. I am strong where you are weak. I succeed where your will would have failed you. I survived even when you tried to destroy me. _

Her hatred chokes me and sends my mind reeling. It's an attack like I've never felt before. I feel her pushing on the compartments of my mind, trying to break through the walls I built around her. There are cracks, and I try to fill them with my own mind again. But she is strong enough to hold me back.

_I will not be shut away in a box again, Emily. _

_You aren't real,_ I repeat.

_As long as you exist, so do I. _

Before I can respond, there's crushing feeling in my torso. I open my eyes. Jacob's form blocks the light above us, leaving him as a sillhouette. "It won't be long now, and my Oath to my brother will be fulfilled. His death will be avenged, and you and your entire team will be dead." The pressure eases, but the pain is still paralyzing.

I cringe at his threat, but Lauren only simmers. She is just as scared as I am, but her will to live is much stronger. I try to tap into her strength, but she cuts me off before I reach into it.

_If we're going to make it out of this alive, we have to work together_, I hiss.

She doesn't respond, but her walls recede enough to allow me to sip from her will. For a split second, her walls go too far, and I feel cold, dark, imprisoned. She clamps down on her security, but it's too late. I realize that is the place where I enclosed her in my mind all this time since Doyle.

_Stay away, _she warns.

_He's going to kill us, them. We have to do something. We both know they're still coming. They wouldn't leave us behind._

Lauren can't keep her emotions locked away anymore.

_You want them to die. _I shy away from her presence as she imagines all the people I care about dead. Their faces flash before me, bloodied and lifeless. _No._

_It's not an option. If they die, so do we. _My disgust builds my own strength. For a moment, I'm in completely control, but it's not long enough to banish her back into her hole.

_They killed him,_ she yells as soon as my assault ends. Another face, one she cared about, flashes. I can feel her grief, her hatred towards those responsible, towards me.

_They will not die. _I'm prepared to say more, to explain to her why Ian had to die, to defend myself and my team, but Jacob returns. He grabs my hair and pulls me into a sitting position.

The sudden motion causes my head to spin and black and blue dots spot my vision for several seconds. My arms and ribs cry out against the movement. It's almost too much of an effort, but it seems that with Lauren's escape, our combined energy is enough to keep us upright. It terrifies me how easily I accept her presence, but she only smirks at my discomfort. _When we get out of this, you're going right back where you came from._

_We'll see. _I feel her fear like it's mine own.

"It doesn't matter." I whisper. "They know it's a trap. They'll be prepared now. You forget, Jacob, every clue you've given me you've given them." My mouth works along with my newly cleared mind. The last hour of my life is still blurry and too distorted with pain to really be accurate. "And they aren't being tortured. They know who your brother is, and they know who you are. When they do come, they will kill you."

Jacob chuckles. He's standing over me, but there's no weapon in his hands. For now, it seems I've been given a reprieve from new tortures unless he plans on beating me. "I want them to know." He lowers himself until he's at my eye level. His eyes are crystal blue. Lauren jumps at the sight of them. Some part of me is arroused at them too.

_You're in denial_, Lauren says.

"I want them to know, during the last few seconds, when they're just barely clinging to life, why this happened. They will know that this is your fault, and they will blame you. You will lose everyone you love, and then I will kill you."

_Stop lying to yourself, _Lauren orders.

I shut my eyes hoping with darkness will come quiet, but Lauren is still there. And so is the nagging voice that with my diluted mind, I was able ignore. With clarity came the truth, and it was a truth I had been running from from the first moment Jacob walked through the barn doors.

"I've known," I hiss, reopening my eyes to meet his. "I've known who you are from the first second I saw you."

He grins the same cheeky smile he wore when he began the torture. "Ian and I made a pact the day we separated. We both knew the life our parents had planned for us. We made a pact that day, that if ever one of us was killed, the other had to kill those responsible." He holds up his left palm. An old but jagged cut runs from his thumb to pinkie. "We signed it in blood."

"You did all of this," I gasp, "for a pact you made when you were thirteen."

"I'm nothing if not a man of my word."

Anger floods my mind, numbing my pain, and empowering my limbs. I lunge at him. He's caught off gaurd, but I'm still slowed by my injuries. My right hand catches his face, and I drag my nails down across his eyes and cheeks. He yells in pain.

The next second something hard connects with my face knocking me off balance. I can't catch myself before the ground rushes up to meet me. He pulls his body over mine, straddling my legs, and holding my arms down with his hands.

He lifts one of his arms. I can't react fast enough before his fist lands against my face. The pain is excruciating. My head spins. The ringing in my ears that had subsided once I returned to consciousness returns. I feel nauseous.

His fist connects again, two more times. I brace myself for another hit, but it never comes. Jacob's weight is gone. I don't know where he went, and I don't really care.

I whimper because of the pain radiating across my face and my head. My mind goes crazy, and I can't reel it in. The madness is worse than the pain.

_Let me,_ Lauren chides.

_Please, make it stop. _I beg.

_Give me control. _

_How?_

_Don't fight it._ I don't know what she means at first, but then I feel it. I feel her expanding in my mind, pushing against my defenses. I push back instinctively against the foreign presence in my mind. _Don't, _she orders again. It actually hurts when I give her control. I've imagined death countless times. I've encountered it a few times before, but this is something completely different.

I'm not just dying. I'm being erased. I panic. I start to push against her again, but it's too late. I see her plan now. I will never get control again. She is going to imprison me in my own mind. I feel myself compressing, moving into total darkness. My limbs disappear, but I can still see them. The pain lessens, but the memories are still strong in my mind. I try to move my fingers, toes, to talk with my own mouth, to smell with my own nose, to hear with my own ears, to see with my own eyes, but nothing belongs to me anymore.

They are hers. This is Lauren's body now. Now I am the parasite.

When Jacob comes back, I can do nothing but watch through eyes that aren't mine. In his hand is a long, metal object. The tip is flattened and glowing red with heat. The fear of the object belongs to us both. _Do something,_ I order to her. _You wanted control. Now you have it. Get us out of here._

"Ian told me about you." She says. I can feel her lips, my lips, moving, but I can't make them form the words I want to them to say. "and your mother." She chuckles. "He told me..." she pauses. I feel her mouth, my mouth, form a degrading smirk. "she was a whore, and his father had finally had enough."

I'd never seen Jacob angry, not even when I told Penelope that this was somehow a trap, but now his eyes glare at me, at her. He raises the object, and it slices across my face, her face.

We both feel the pain. The metal scorches our skin and cuts through it. Our cheek blisters. White hot lances shoot in every direction, blinding us both. Somehow, Lauren is able to regain control of our sight. When he prepares to bring the weapon down on us again, she uses her wrist to block the attack. It's far enough away from the tip to not sear our skin, but close enough to blister.

She reaches up with her other hand and yanks the branding iron towards us. Jacob is surprised enough that the weapon slips from his hand. Before he can recover, she spins the weapon and thrusts it into his thigh.

He screams in agony and falls to the ground.

_Run! _I command. I will our legs to move, but they only follow her orders. I can feel her debating our next move. Lauren was never a runner. She wants to finish him, but he's already starting to regain his feet.

_We're in no condition to win. We will die. Run! _

She hesitates another second. Jacob is stumbling to his feet. _Run!_ I scream. Finally she listens. Our legs are weak from exhaustion, but adrenaline is pumping through our veins. We're out the barn door in the next second. The moon and stars are the only light outside the barn. There's an open field which leads to an old farmhouse. Surrounding the field is woods. Far to our left there is a break in the trees: a road.

I don't have to tell her what to do now. Our instincts and training take over. I realize now that he must have bruised our ribs because every breath feels like we're being stabbed. Our arms howl in protest, and our head pounds angrily.

_One more step,_ we encourage each other when the other's will begins to fade. I can only hope that her will lasts because if she fails, our body will collapse. Survival trumps everything else. For now we are allies.

We're half way through the field when lightning shoots from our left leg. We fall to the ground. The pain criss-crosses everywhere. A second later, we hear the sound of a gunshot. It's not from behind us, but from somewhere in front. From the tree line.

We don't have to wait long before he finds us. His body blocks the stars. Not even Lauren can find the energy to protest when he raises his foot and slams it against our face. The last thing we hear before the blackness takes away the pain is the sound of police sirens.

* * *

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."

-Oscar Wilde-

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**Tell me what you think :)**


	10. Killer Within

**Thank you all SO SO SO SO SO much for your reviews! I don't think I've taken the time to tell you guys how much I appreciate the support in a while. It gives the inspiration to keep this story going. I always smile when I read another review. **

* * *

There is no hunting like the hunting of man and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it never really care for anything else.

-Hemingway-

* * *

MORGAN'S POV

"Can this thing go any faster?" The trees outside whip by the SUV windows. Dust clouds surround the vehicle. If I looked at the speedometer, I know we would be going way over speeds safe on a gravel road, but that's not fast enough. We need to be there now. Emily needs us _now_.

Hotch's knuckles are white against the steering wheel. "Morgan, I'm going as fast as I can."

I know he is. I know he's doing everything he can. I know that we all are, but I also know that it may not be enough. We could lose her...again. I know what it feels like to lose Emily. I'm still recovering from the shock of getting her back, and I can't go through the grieving process again. I won't. Not after just getting her back. I won't survive this time.

"Stay level headed. We have to keep our composure." Hotch says after several seconds. The gravel road shifts to the right. The tires grind against the sudden change. Hotch rights the direction of the vehicle and returns to top speed.

"Composure? Hotch did you see what he did-"

"She needs us to keep our cool. If we go in guns blazing she could get hurt worse. You heard what she told Garcia, about this being a trap. His vendetta isn't just against her, Derek. It's against us all."

"I know that." I retort.

"Emily is our first priority, but we have to keep everyone else in mind. We don't know what we're going to find. If we lose our heads, we could lose more than Emily."

I glare at him. "She's not dead." She _can't _be dead. I shut out my last memory of her. After Penelope had told us about the feed, I rushed to see it, but now I wish I never had. I heard her scream in terror and pain before I even saw the monitor. Her voice still echoed in my head. "Emily wouldn't give up like that."

"She would if she thought it would save us. She doesn't know we're coming."

What was he talking about? Why was he writing her off like this? Of course she knew we were coming. She knew we would never leave her. We would never leave anyone on this team behind. We all knew the risks we were taking coming here, but that's what the extra five squad cars and the SWAT team were for. I started to argue with him, but before I could speak, my breath was knocked out of me.

I had the sensation of flying. A second later, I heard a deafening boom that shook the SUV. Through the windows I could see the world outside tumbling. My ears rang with an ear-splitting wine for a moment then there was total silence. The earth came up to meet the windshield. I yelled for Hotch, but I couldn't even hear my own voice above the silence.

We crashed into the earth. My body felt like it was being pulled in every direction and at the same time being crushed from above. The ringing came back and whistled louder and sharper. There was a moment of total euphoria then the pain was everywhere.

* * *

JJ'S POV

It had to be the woods. I felt stupid and selfish for even thinking about my irrational fear when Emily was somewhere ahead being tortured by Jacob Doyle, but I still kept my head slightly bowed and completely focused on the road rather than the woods surrounding it.

Rossi was in the driver's seat, and Reid was in the back. Hotch and Morgan were in front of us. Behind us were five squad cars and a SWAT team. This had to be enough to save her. It had to. I tried not to think about what I had seen on that computer monitor, but I knew that those few seconds I had been able watch would haunt me for the rest of my life.

_We're coming, Emily. Don't stop fighting; don't give up on us. We're coming for you. Hold on, please._

"Reid, how much further?" Rossi demands. The veins in his neck and forehead are protruding from under his skin. His hands are wrapped in what must be a painful grip around the steering wheel. He's following Hotch way too close, but neither Reid or I say anything.

"Less than a mile. They're should be a-"

Reid never gets to finish his sentence because in the next second, there's a deafening blast and Hotch's SUV in front of us flies into to the air. Rossi pulls hard to the right to avoid crashing into it, but we were too close and going to fast.

The sudden change in direction flips our SUV. I'm completely out of my seat for a moment then being smashed into it the next. The world outside the windows is spinning, tumbling in around us. I scream pathetically as my body is thrust mercilessly by forces completely out of my control.

I want to shut my eyes, but they won't listen. After what feels like minutes of turning, we finally come to a stop. It takes me another second, however, to stop churning. My stomach feels like it's in my throat, and my head is still spinning painfully. "Rossi," I manage. I don't know what direction he's in.

I think the SUV is lying with my side to the ground, or ast least it feels that way, but I don't trust my sense of direction yet. "Reid."

I panic when neither one of them answer. I shift my weight, trying to free myself from the seatbelt. I successfully manage to do that, but I fall hard against the door and hit my head against the broken window. "Shit," I grimace. My already pounding head slices open. I pull myself away from the window.

"Rossi," I turn to my left, and there's Rossi, slumped to the side, leaning towards me. "Rossi," I repeat. I pull myself closer until I can shake him with both hands. My arms feel light and wobbly, but I manage to shake him enough to stir him. "JJ, wha-"

"Hotch and Morgan, they-" What? I had no idea what happened. One second they were driving then the next they were flying through the air. "They wrecked. We need to get out of here." I glance into the back seat and see Spencer slumped forward. His head is stained with fresh blood, but his chest is moving up and down.

I lean down to reach for Rossi's seat belt when I hear gunfire and glass breaking. Rossi jolts as if he's been hit by something. Warm liquid spurts against my face and arms. "Damn it!" Rossi exclaims, clutching his right arm to his left shoulder.

"Oh my God," I gasp. My mind can't work fast enough. I don't know what to do. Dark liquid begins to stain his tan shirt. "Rossi-"

The SUV driver's door opens. At first I think it's one of the officers from the squad cars that were following not far behind us. "He's been shot. I don't know by-" but I quickly realize I'm wrong. In the dark, I can't see his face clearly, but I know this man isn't in uniform.

The gun in his hand raises and points directly at me. "Get out of the vehicle, Darling, and I won't kill your friends just yet."

* * *

_Hotch. _

_Rossi. _

_Penelope._

_Reid. _

_JJ._

_Derek._

Their names, one by one, continuously run through my head. Their faces are what I cling to when I feel myself slipping back into unconsciousness. Lauren has nothing. She has nothing, no one, to hold on to, but she is still present in my head. _You will know what it's like to lose the ones you love. You will know what you put me through._

I hear the sirens growing louder. I know that with every second that passes, they're one second closer to his trap. They're running in blind, and it's my fault. My family is in danger, and there is nothing I can do about it.

I fear that Lauren could be right.

I'm slung over someone's shoulders, not Jacob's. Presumably, it's the man who shot me. Jacob is hobbling beside us. I can hear him panting and dragging one of his legs. Every few seconds he curses under his breath. Whoever is holding me, isn't being gentle, but they're carrying my weight easily. I know, even if I could run on my leg, whoever is holding me could still catch me without a problem.

Thinking about my leg causes it to throb. Both Lauren and I cringe. We may have different minds, but we share the same body. The pain it experiences belongs to both of us. "I'm going to save you for last. I'm going to make you watch as I slit your friends' throats. They'll bleed out at your feet." Jacob's been threatening similar scenarios since he tracked me down in the field, but everyone still nauseates me because I know he could be right.

I'm too weak from blood loss and exhaustion to talk. Jacob's partner used his belt to slow the blood flow from my leg, but I can still feel the warm liquid running down my pant leg.

The only sounds in the field are our breathing, and Jacob's labored march through the tall grass.

Until the blast, and a few moments later, the gunfire.

Jacob and his partner stop. Jacob turns to me. The moonlight casts long, terrifying shadows across his face that only accentuates his crazed smile. His ice blue eyes glare at me. "Your friends have met my welcoming committee. You will see them soon."

_My family._ I raise my head trying to look in the direction of the road. I see a small fire and perhaps the shape of an large, overturned vehicle. Terror starts in my stomach and rises in my throat. An ear-piercing scream splits through the night air. It's only seconds later that I realize it's mine. I flail, ignoring the pain, and fighting with all my strength against my captor.

I feel my fists connecting with his back. My good leg and knee pound the front of his body mercilessly, but his hold on me never lessens. I scream again, begging him to let me go. My renewed strength sparks Lauren's interest. She adds her own power, but nothing happens. The man starts walking towards the barn again at Jacob's command.

I fall against his back hopelessly as tears stream unhindered down my cheek. The despair is more terrifying than anything I've ever felt before. The guilt is crushing. Their faces as Lauren imagined them, bloodied and lifeless, flash before my eyes again. Lauren recedes back into my mind, satisfied that she will finally have her revenge.

_My family..._

* * *

_"Of all the animals, man is the only one that is cruel. He is the only one who inflicts pain for the pleasure of doing it."_

_-Mark Twain-_

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**This chapter was mostly to set up the next one: the big meeting between Jacob and the rest of the BAU team. Don't forget to tell me what you think! :)**


	11. A Fitting End

**If there are a lot of grammar mistakes, I apologize. I had this WHOLE chapter written then through a series of unfortunate events, it was completely deleted and had to be rewritten. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. The next update will be really quick because I feel as if you guys have been put through enough cliffhangers for one lifetime. **

* * *

"For he today who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother."

-William Shakespeare-

* * *

Morgan's POV

The pain was excruciating, but it was bearable. I shifted my weight, testing which body parts hurt the worst. The right side of my body seemed to have taken the brunt of the trauma, but nothing felt broken. Warm liquid ran down my face, and my mouth tasted metallic. I swallowed hard, attempting to catch my breath and steady the world.

After several seconds of focused breathing, I heard Hotch moan next to me. "Hotch," I turn my head to left. Hotch is barely conscious; his eyelids are opened just enough to see his dark brown irises. Blood slips across his face from a wound above his ear.

I reach for my seatbelt to begin to help us both get out of the vehicle. I pause as I gunfire sounds in the distance. "What the hell is that?" I mutter.

"Ambush. Jacob." Hotch groans. His voice is weak and forced. His head rolls to the other side. I quit fighting with my seatbelt and reach across to force his head to look at me again.

"Stay with me, Man. I'm gonna get us out of here. Just stay with me."

His eyes flutter open. One of his hands grips my wrist with more strength than I would have thought. "Good. Hold on, buddy." I let go and start to work on my seatbelt again.

The SUV is overturned. I hold on to my seat with my right hand and release the seatbelt with my left. My legs swing down, and both my shins hit the dash painfully. I splay a string of curse words and punch the seat. I think I hear Hotch huff in what could be his own pain, or he could just be laughing at me.

Flashlights flash across the cracked windshield. I reach over again and work frantically to try and free Hotch from his restraint. I push my shoulders against his chest to brace myself for his weight once the seatbelt is undone. "No," he groans, "go."

"I'm not leaving you, Man. We're a team. We don't leave people behind."

He pushes me away weakly. I stare at him. "Hotch..."

"I can take care of myself." His eyes fully open, revealing his dark brown irises. "Emily needs you. Go."

At the sound of her name, I back away. I know he's right. I know she needs me, but that doesn't stop the sickening feeling that I'm abandoning him. I grip his hand in mine and squeeze it in good-bye. "Be safe." I whisper as I maneuver my way out of the shattered passenger window.

"You too," I hear him grunt.

Once out of the vehicle, I see our other SUV, the one JJ, Rossi, and Reid were traveling in, turned on its side not twenty feet away. Three armed men surround it. One of them is standing on top. I fight my urge to help them as flashlights zero in on me.

I run into the forest. I hear voices and the sound of pursuit behind me. The forest is nearly pitch black, but I run with all my strength. Within moments, the sounds fade until I know I'm not being chased anymore. I stop to purge the contents of my stomach.

_You're a coward._ I scream at myself. _A damned coward. _I look back, and I can still see the outline of our SUV against the backdrop of flames. Three men are standing around it. "Hotch." I know I couldn't help him. If I had stayed, I would have been taken too, and no one would be left to save Emily or any of them. I waited another moment to see what would happen, but there was no gunfire. They weren't going to shoot him, yet.

_Emily needs you._

I wipe my mouth and start off in the direction I think the farmhouse is in. I pull my gun from its holster and run as fast as I can in the light. More than once I trip over a root or fallen branch. Every sound makes me jump and raise my gun into the air, but I run for minutes without seeing anyone.

The trees are starting to get smaller and spread farther apart. I must be getting close to the edge of the forest. I pick up my pace, ignoring the stitch in my side. I can just make out the end of the trees when something trips me, and go sprawling to the ground.

My face lands in leaves, but my knees slices against something solid. "Shit," I groan. I only just register the leaves stirring around me. I look up and see the end of a gun barrel pointed at my face.

In the darkness, I can't see the man's face, but I can tell he's not in uniform. I realize my weapon isn't in my hand. I must have dropped it when I fell. I curse myself for being so stupid. "Well, well, well," the man says, "looks like I hit the jackpot. Jacob's going to let me do whatever I want to your little bit-" but his words are cut off.

There's a thud then he falls to the ground. I stare, dumbfounded, at his unconscious body. "Are you a friendly?" I look up again to see another, much bigger, gun aimed at me.

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan." The response is automatic. My mind is still trying to keep up with what's happened.

The gun doesn't move. "Show me your badge, slowly. One wrong move and I blow your brains out."

"It's in my pocket." I show him my right hand and cautiously move it into my pocket. I remove my badge and show it to him. "See?"

The gun barrel lowers. "Sorry. I just had to be sure. Are you hurt?"

I can see this new man extend an arm out to me. "Who are you?" I ask suspiciously.

The man chuckles. "I guess that's fair. I'm Calvin Hitchcock. I'm with SWAT." He extends his hand again.

This time I take it. I can see the outline of his body armor, and the four white letters glowing clearly across it now. "Where's the rest of your men?" I ask. "I'm on my way to the farmhouse. My people-" I stop, not wanting to explain it any further.

He waits a moment before answering. "I've got two in the trees not far from here. One's injured pretty badly. We're...we're all that's left."

I run my hand over my head. "All that's left. How can that be?"

There's another long pause. "They caught us off guard. Killed half the men in the cruisers before we even realized what was happening. Men were dropping left and right. We returned fire, but it was too late. Our captain," he pauses, "our captain laid come cover fire for us to get Fisher, that's the man who was injured, out of there. We ran into the forest. I tried to go back, but everyone was already dead. We ran deeper into the forest, away from the fighting. Figured the safest place to wait for rescue would be the house. Then I saw you running."

"Our SUV's...we were ambushed, too. It was all a trap. I don't know if any of them are still alive..." I'm numb to the idea that they're all dead. "I have to get to Emi - to our Agent. If anyone's alive, they'll take them there."

Calvin nodded. "We radioed for back up about ten minutes ago. They're sending the entire army down on these guys, but it'll be twenty minutes before they're here."

"I can't wait twenty minutes."

Calvin sighs. "Okay, but I can't let you go alone."

"And I can't ask you to leave your men in hostile territory."

"They're holed up safely. I can radio them and tell them what's happened. I'm coming with you. I want to see that son of a bitch who did this put down."

"We'll circle the field and come up behind the barn."

XXX

It only took us a few minutes to position ourselves. Calvin made contact with his men, and they're both positioned at the opposite end of the field.

There's only a fifty foot clearing between us and the back of the barn. Calvin scans the tree line around us and nods, signaling its safe to advance. Light is streaming from cracks in the barn, but we are concealed in darkness as we make our way forward, lowered to the ground, guns raised.

We're about halfway to the barn when Calvin's radio hisses static. We both drop to the ground. "Hitchcock, this better be good," he whispers.

"There's flashlights in the field." One of his men answers. "Six of them. The men are carrying four hostages: three male and one female."

"Those are my people." I can feel my body relaxing, but at the same time a sickening dread drops my stomach. They're alive, but for how long?

"Can you get a read on their conditions?" Calvin answers back.

There's a moment of static. "The males are all beaten up. One of them is bleeding pretty badly. Looks like he's got a gunshot wound to his left shoulder. Another can barely walk. The female...they've got her stripped down to her undergarments, but I can't see any injuries."

I hiss in disgust and glare in the direction of the barn. I can hear voices now, but the words are mumbled. "Okay. Six unfriendlies. Are they armed?"

"To the teeth."

Calvin and I share a glance. "How long 'til backup?" He murmurs into the radio.

"Fifteen minutes."

I shake my head, telling him that's too long to wait. If we wait fifteen minutes, they'll all be dead.

"We're going in. No more radio."

I fear that his partner might argue with him, but there's only silence on the other side. Calvin motions with his hand for us to continue the advance. The sickening feeling in my stomach doesn't go away. I know the odds. Not everyone will come out of this alive. I could lose someone I love tonight.

I push the panic into a compartment of my mind and focus on the task at hand: saving them and killing the son of a bitch who caused all of this.

* * *

EMILY'S POV

I hear the voices before I see the flashlights. Jacob, who is sitting in a chair across the barn, grins at me. "It's time for a reunion, I think, Emily."

"If you touch them, I swear to God-"

The barn door creaks open. The man who carried me here, whose name I learned is Byron, mutters something to whoever's at the door. He disappears outside for a moment and returns carrying someone on his shoulders.

I stop fighting against my restraints. I'm frozen as Byron drops his cargo onto the ground. Rossi rolls over. There's a huge blood stain on his shirt, and his right eye is almost swollen shut. He gripping his left shoulder, and I can see blood still seeping from his wound. "Rossi," I gasp.

He opens his eyes at the sound of my voice. "Emily, don't worry. We're going to get you out of this."

I stare at him. "Rossi, I'm sorry." The guilt brings tears. "I'm so sorry. He's Ian's brother. I'm so sorry." I need him to understand that I never meant for this to happen. I should have let Jacob kill me. I shouldn't have fought to stay alive. If I would have died, their lives would have been spared.

"Emily, listen to me. Look at me!" His voice draws my eyes back to him. "You didn't do this."

I wish that were true, but my family will die because of me. I shake my head and turn away from him.

"Bring the rest of them in." Jacob orders.

I watch in horror as, one by one, my family is brought in and forced to the ground at my feet. Reid's faced is bloodied, and he keeps looking around as if he doesn't know where he is. Hotch is drug in because he can't walk by himself. Blood covers his body. His face is swollen beyond recognition. JJ is stripped down to nothing but her bra and underwear. Bruises cover her arms.

At the sight of them, all the fight drains out of me. Every hope I'd been clinging to to stay alive disappears, shattered by the broken looks in their eyes. I feel weaker than ever and more desperate.

They all stare at me in their own horror. "I'm so sorry," I murmur.

I can feel Lauren's excitement. Their faces as she imagined them are no longer just images. They are real, and they are staring back at me. My worst nightmare, and her deepest wish.

_You will know what you did to me, what you put me through. _

Jacob stands to his feet. He drags his right leg where I stabbed him with the branding iron. He taps the gun in his hand menacingly against his hip.

_You will be the cause of the death of the ones you love. You will withstand your own torture. This is the only fitting end._

I never cried or begged during his torture, but now I do both. "Please, this is between me and you. I killed Ian. Me. Not them. Let them go, and you can do whatever you want with me. I'll do anything. Please, don't kill them." I'm panicking, giving away my life, but I don't care anymore. All that matters is getting them out of this.

"This isn't about Ian anymore."

Lauren's pleasure gags me. _If they die, we die, too._

_I died a long time ago, _she spits.

I see everything in slow motion. Jacob stops behind Rossi. He raises the gun and aims it at the back of Rossi's head.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" I scream. I fight with all my strength against the restraints. My terror turns to rage, and my rage to power. But nothing changes. The ties don't give. The gun in his hand never wavers.

Rossi straightens in preparation. He meets my eyes again. "This is not your fault." He murmurs. It hurts worse that I know he believes it.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry..." I repeat, pushing against the chair and flailing. The terror is everything. "Please, no...I'll do anything." I beg. Tears blur my vision.

Jacob puts his finger to the trigger. "This _is_ your fault." Both he and Lauren say in time.

* * *

"All through history there have been tyrants and murderers. And for a time, they can seem invincible, but they always fall, always."

-Mahatma Ghandi-

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**Tell me what you think, please. :)**


	12. To Hell

**A lot of POV changes in the chapter. I hope that doesn't get too confusing. I would have updated this morning for you, but my internet was down until about an hour ago. Oh, and if anyone ever doubted the love that CM fans have for every single one of the team members, all they have to do is look at those last few reviews. Y'all are amazing. Enjoy!**

* * *

"With foxes we must play the fox."

-Dr. Thomas Fuller-

* * *

EMILY'S POV

Jacob's finger relaxed on the trigger. He started to shake his head. "No, no, no, this isn't right."

I gasped in relief. For now the terror was over. Rossi slumps back to the floor. He's still staring at me, "Bella," he whispers.

"Jacob, please," I know whatever doubts Jacob is having won't last long. Jacob is someone who once a plan is made, it must be carried out, no matter the cost. "Let them go. You have me. Kill me. They don't have to do die."

He turns to me. Blood drips into his eyes from three long scratches across his face: marks from where my nails dug into his skin during my failed escape. He wipes the blood away and glares at me. The red from the blood stands in stark contrast to the blue in his eyes. I know he won't let them go, but I can't give up.

He turns away from me and looks at the six men who had led my family into the barn. They cringe under his glare. "Where is the other? Where is Derek Morgan?"

I inhale sharply. How could I have forgotten about Derek? I search each one of my family's eyes, but they each shake their heads until I look at Hotch. His face is bloodied and swollen, but I can still see his deceptively small nod. Relief and hope wash over me.

There was a chance.

If Derek was out there, there was a chance. He could be leading another rescue team here right now. I just had to stall Jacob long enough.

I look back at him. One of his men steps forward from the rest. "He ran into the woods before we could get to the SUV. Bastard's fast. We sent someone after him, but he never came back."

Even with Jacob's back to me, I could imagine his glare. The other man bowed his head. Jacob's shoulders tensed, and the gun shook in his hand. "We don't do this until they're _all_ here."

Byron, who had been standing behind me, hisses to get Jacob's attention. Jacob whirls around, eyes narrowed. "We may not have that much time. If he called for help, we could have the entire US army coming down on us. We need to get this over fast and get the hell out of here."

"No, you six," he points at the other men, "set up a perimeter around the barn. Shoot to injure. I want him alive." The other six men duck out of the barn door. It moans shut behind them.

"Jacob, this is your last chance. Let them go." I don't know where this sudden confidence came from. Nothing had changed. Jacob could kill us all in thirty seconds and be gone forever if he wanted, but I knew he wouldn't. His fantasy had to play out perfectly. He tapped the gun against his head as if in thought.

He chuckled and grinned at me. "I could just kill them now and wait for my men to bring in Agent Morgan, or do you mind if I call him Derek?"

Jacob's threat silences me. This small conversation has worn me down. I can feel the adrenaline crash sapping my strength. The pain starts to come back in full force. My leg aches. My arms are numb, and I'm beginning to lose feeling in my hands. My face hurts the worst. I can feel the long gnash pulsing where Jacob sliced me across the cheek with the branding iron. My head is pounding mercilessly, and I can barely think now. It takes all my strength to keep my head up.

Jacob looks at my family. "I apologize for my men's roughness. They're good soldiers. They just don't know when enough is enough sometimes." His eyes fall on JJ. She tightens her hold on herself, trying to block as much of herself as she can from him.

Hotch scoots closer, and I can how much pain that puts him through. He grips his torso and glares at Jacob as if daring him to take another step. Jacob only laughs. He slips out of his suit coat and holds it out in front of him. "For her."

"I'd rather die," JJ hisses.

He rolls his eyes. "That can be arranged. Put this on. It will put my mind at ease. There's no reason you have to be more uncomfortable than necessary."

"Necessary?" JJ snaps. She raises her head and now I can see the fresh bruises dotting her neck where someone grabbed her.

Jacob half-smiles and bites his lip. He looks at Hotch. "Is there something in the water at Quantico? Your women have some mouths on them. I know how to fix that though."

JJ's face drains of color. She turns to me. I nod at her to take the jacket. She reaches out and grimaces when he drops the coat into her hands. "There you go. Was that so hard?"

JJ throws the jacket over her shoulders. She shivers but pulls the jacket tight over her. I don't want to imagine just how 'rough' those men were. Hotch stays by her side, successfully putting himself between Jacob and JJ.

His eyes follow Jacob as he makes his way towards me. I automatically tense as he takes place behind me. His hands caress my neck. "It won't be long now, _love,_ and all of this will be over."

Whatever source had given me strength moments ago abandoned me. I was exhausted, and the pain was everywhere. I wanted it to be true. I wanted it to be over. I was tired of fighting. I was tired of the pain. I only wished my family didn't have to die with me.

_Derek, please, get them out. Please, save them._

* * *

I listened in horror as Emily begged for someone's life. I had no way to know who, and no way to help them. I bowed my head and prepared for the gunshot, but it never came. Instead, I heard Jacob's orders to bring me in. I motioned at Calvin to take the left side of the barn. With another gesture, I made sure he understood that stealth was our only advantage.

If Jacob knew we were here, every one of them could die.

He nods and pulls a large knife from his pant leg. He crouches lower and moves along the back of the barn. I go to the right and pause at the corner. I can see the silhouette of two men coming towards me. Their weapons aren't raised. They don't even seem to be worried.

"That blonde bit the hell out of my lip. It's still bleeding." One of them says.

I growl quietly realizing they were talking about JJ. I grip my gun tighter. I could kill them both before they even drew their weapons, but that would only give away my location. I seethe and wait for them to get closer.

"Quit your winin'. If we make it out of this, Jacob's gonna have your skin for makin' her strip down like that." His partner laughs. "I thought that tall one was going to have a heart attack."

"Bastard sucker punched me. Lucky I didn't kill him then and there."

The other laughs harder now. "You kiddin'? That guy woulda murdered you if me an' Briggs hadn't pulled him off-" he doesn't get to finish his sentence. They get to the corner and I hit him over the head with the butt of my gun. The other attempts to raise his weapon, but I kick it out of his hands.

I tackle him to the ground and punch him three times before he's able to defend himself. He tries to twist out from under me, but I press my thumbs hard against his windpipe. His fingers claw uselessly at my face.

"Is this what you did to her?" I hiss as loud as I dare. I know I can kill him. Everything inside me is telling me to. This monster hurt JJ, humiliated her. He deserved to die, but, seemingly without my command, my fingers release their hold. The man under me sucks for air. I raise my arm again and bring it down hard on his face. His body goes limp under me.

I wipe my mouth and stand to my feet. Two down. I hope Calvin is having as much luck as I am. I pull the bodies around the back and crouch against the side of the barn as I make my way around to the front.

I peak around the corner. There's two men standing, guns raised. I curse inwardly until I see a shadow on the other side of the barn. The glint of a knife flashes in the dim light. The shadow begins to advance forward, and I do the same.

We're almost on the men when they realize what's happening. I wrap my arm around the man's neck closest to me. I hear the sound of metal sinking into flesh next to me. After several seconds, the man in my arms goes limp. I lay him to the ground.

Calvin is standing in front of the door, bloody knife in hand. The other man is at his feet, dead. I know I should be sickened that he had killed a man in cold blood, but I knew how it felt to lose a teammate in the field. I knew the wracking grief and guilt, but I also knew the insatiable bloodlust for the people responsible. I nod at him in the darkness.

He twirls the knife in his fingers and motions back the way he came. Once around the corner he points up. The roof starts about three feet above our heads at a sharp angle then steepens. There's a window with light shining through. I smile. This was our way in.

* * *

EMILY'S POV

I could feel Jacob's breath on my neck. It sent shivers down my spine, and my stomach lurched at having him so close to me. "I'm going to let you choose the order in which they die. One by one I'll pull the trigger on your command."

I'm revolted and terrified. I meet their eyes, and I see my fear reflected in them. "I won't. I won't choose." I gasp to them. "I won't."

He chuckles in my ear and presses his hand hard against my left arm. I stifle the scream as best I can, but the pain is too much. I cry out as lances of pain shoot down my arm and through my mind. Lauren recoils from the feeling, but I can feel the pain amplified in her consciousness.

"Stop it!" Hotch groans.

Jacob releases my arm. I gasp in shock and relief, but now I fear for Hotch. Jacob doesn't move from behind me, but I can feel him tapping the gun on my shoulder. "Ah, ah, ah, Agent Hotcher. We wouldn't want any accidents," he rubs the gun against my neck, "to happen, would we?"

Hotch glowers. "Don't touch her."

I plead with Hotch to stop with my eyes. "Byron, maybe you should teach Agent Hotchner a few lessons on manners."

I watch in horror as Byron grins and moves in front of Hotch.

"No, Jacob, no, stop!" I know my pleas are useless. Hotch glares defiantly up at Byron even as the big man's foot connects hard with his ribs. I yell again fighting against the ties holding me to the chair. I can't watch this. I can't watch them suffer because of me. I close my eyes, but tears still stream down my face.

* * *

REID'S POV

I look away in disgust as Byron's foot connects with Hotch's torso repeatedly. I try to do anything to not look at the torture next to me, but more than that I refuse to look at Emily.

When I saw her on the computer monitor, I knew that I would never see anything as terrible as that, but she was so much worse now. I didn't know how she was still alive. I knew that no one else would be able to withstand that much torture, but she had. For us. She thought by staying alive, she could somehow save us from this.

I scan the barn, looking for anything I could have missed before, anything that could help us get out of this. That's when I see it, or rather, _them_. I watch in amazement as Morgan and another man shimmy through the window of the loft. Morgan raises his finger to his mouth. I nod and immediately look away.

_We're going to make it out of this._

* * *

"In order for light to shine so brightly darkness must be present."

-Francis Bacon-

* * *

**Morgan to the rescue! Let me know what you're thinking!**


	13. A Fragile Thing

**A lot of POV changes again, but I think we're getting to the point where we can return to just Emily soon. Please, don't hate me after this chapter. It may or may not be as bad as you think (oh, how I love mind games). **

* * *

"Hope is faith holding out its hands in the dark."

-George Iles-

* * *

MORGAN'S POV

The moment I see her, my heart shatters. I hear Calvin gasp quietly. It's the only noise we make, but I want to shout. I want to scream and yell. I grip the gun tighter in my hand, but it does nothing to quench the raw hatred burning through my veins. The anger is almost painful. My stomach shrivels; chills move over my body. I zero in on the man responsible. The coward hiding behind Emily.

The second he moved away, I would end his life. Damn anything else. That monster was not walking out of this barn.

Her face is unrecognizable Under her injuries. Bruises mar both sides. Her right eye is swollen almost completely shut, and there's a long, red, blistered gnash across her cheek. Blood cakes to her hair and face. Her long-sleeved pajama top is rolled up revealing her arms which are covered in seeped-through bandages.

I choke down the growl when I see her pants have been removed. Her left leg is covered in blood from a large wound in her thigh: a bullet hole. The bastard shot her. Of all the things he did to her, for some reason, this seems the worst.

I notice out of the corner of my eye Calvin glancing at me. He motions down, and that's when I realize that someone is standing over Hotch. Hotch grunts as the man's foot comes down on his torso, again. Rossi, Reid, and JJ all cry out for the man to stop, but his foot connects without hesitation.

"That's enough, Byron," Jacob finally commands.

The bigger man stops kicking, but he doesn't move away from Hotch. JJ moves forward, placing herself between Hotch and the other man, Byron. She bends down over Hotch, running her hands over him, trying to find anyway to help him. The suit jacket slung over her shoulders falls revealing her underclothes.

Byron leans forward and grabs the back of JJ's hair. JJ shrieks and tries to claw his hands away from her. He throws her to the ground and starts to advance. Before I can focus my gun on Byron, there's a boom next to my ears, and Byron drops to the ground in front of JJ. Blood pours from the gunshot wound in his back.

* * *

EMILY'S POV

After the gunshot, there is a millisecond of silence. No one moves or even seems to breathe. We all stare, in shock, at the now dead man. _Derek, you came. Thank you_. I know my fight is over. Derek will get them out safely. My family will live. I want to live too, to remember a time when my body didn't hurt, or where I could still ignore the monster inside me. But I felt so weak and cold and tired.

I felt myself slipping into the abyss again. Perhaps the Voice would meet me again and carry me away into the light. I hoped so, but hope is such a fragile thing.

When Jacob grabs my hair, bringing me slightly back into reality, I force myself to stay awake for just a few more seconds, just to see _his _face one last time. I can feel the cool metal of the gun against my temple.

Lauren, too, wants to live. As much as she hated my family, and as much as she loved Ian, she will always survive. It's who I created her to be. I twist my head to the right, where I think the gunshot came from.

In the loft, I can see his form, crouched next to another, but I don't care about them. I see his light brown eyes narrowed in on me, or perhaps on the man behind me. I see his face set in a hard grimace, one I recognize immediately as the mask he wears when he's struggling to keep it together.

"Do it," I whisper, but I doubt he can hear me. _Do it_, I repeat hoping my message will somehow reach him. I don't care if I die. I just want this nightmare over. As long as they live, nothing else matters.

Two guns are trained in on Jacob. His gun is pressed to my head. Another second of complete silence passes.

Jacob's voice breaks through the quiet. "Well, well, I must say, I am impressed, Agent Morgan. You and your friend have gone above and beyond my expectations. It seems, however, you are still at a disadvantage."

No one moves.

Finally, I hear his voice. "And what disadvantage is that? From where I'm sitting, it seems you're the one in trouble."

Jacob chuckles next to my ear. His warm breath chills my neck. "I still have her."

I don't take my eyes off Derek. I just wish he would look at me for one second, so that he could see that I want him to take the shot. Jacob must die at any cost. I want him to try, but he doesn't look at me. His eyes stay narrowed in on Jacob.

"Drop the gun, Jacob."

The void begins to call my name again. I can feel the darkness start to weigh down on me. I try to fight it, but my strength has been depleted. Lauren gives her own reserve, and my vision which had begun to blur, becomes focused again.

Again, Jacob laughs. "No, you see, this is how it's going to go." He wraps his arm around my neck and roughly hoists me to my feet. I gasp against the sudden rush of pain from my leg. Black and blue dots line my vision.

Jacob can barely hold me up with his bad leg, but I don't have the energy to fight him. I try. I try with everything Lauren and I have, but I can't will my arms to move. He leads me around my team, towards the back of the barn. "I'm going to walk out of here with her, and you aren't going to follow me. Or she dies."

"Let her go, Jacob!" Derek yells.

I wish he would just take the shot. I wish he would just end it already, but I know he won't do that. I think back to that night and morning in his apartment, how every last detail had been planned out just to make sure I was comfortable. I remember how awful I had been to him because I couldn't forget about Ian. I deserve to die, and he deserves so much better.

Jacob trips over something. He hisses loudly, but manages to stay on his feet. His arm stays strong around me, but just for a moment, the gun leaves my temple. The next few seconds are a blur. Reid, who was the closest to us, lunges forward. He grabs Jacob's ankle and brings us both to the ground. Jacob is still slightly under me, but he is struggling with Reid. I try to scramble away, but I can barely move.

I turn over just in time to hear the gunshot.

* * *

REID'S POV

I see Jacob falter and react instinctually. He's only a few feet from me, and he's not even looking at me. Why would he? I'm not the threat. I jump forward, colliding with his legs. Both he and Emily fall to the ground. She's somewhere close, but all my focus in on Jacob.

I try to wrest the gun from his hand, but he knocks it across my jaw instead. That's all it takes. That one second. He points the gun. With our close proximity, he doesn't have to aim. All he has to do it point it in the right direction.

I feel the pain before I hear the boom. It tears through my chest, slicing across my entire body. I can feel electricity buzz under my skin. My mind is stuck in one endless thought. _I've been shot. I've been shot. I've been shot._

I've felt darkness before. The feeling of losing one's body is something remarkable and indescribable. _I've been shot_, I think as blackness overtakes me.

* * *

EMILY'S POV

Reid is on top of Jacob. Jacob points the gun and fires. Reid falls on top of him. There's screaming and movement, but I can't react. I can only watch as Reid's eyes close, and his blood begins to stain the ground

Jacob reaches for me, and in the next second I'm in his arms. I can't tear my eyes away from Reid. A numbness settled over me. I see shapes and movement. I hear mumbled shouts. But all I recognize is red. All I hear is the echo of that gunshot.

The next thing I remember, I'm in an open top Jeep crushing through the barn door. In the moment before we hit the door, the vehicle shakes then we're in the night, enclosed by darkness.

I still can't move. I lean against the passenger door, numb to the world around me. I look up at the sky where the stars shine down bright. The moon looks down on me, smiling at me. I wonder how something so beautiful can witness something so tragic and not weep.

The Jeep turns sharply to the right. The stars and moon disappear. The ground rushes up to meet me. I let the blackness come without a fight. Lauren, however, still clings to life. She can have it. This life isn't worth living.

I deserve to die, and he deserves so much better.

* * *

MORGAN'S POV

I wait for the moment when I'll have the clean shot at Jacob. When Reid tackles him, I prepare for it, but it never comes. Both Reid and Emily are too close. It only takes a second for everything to change. Reid falls to the ground. I'm ready to take the shot. I'm ready to end his life, but Emily is there between us again before I can.

Rossi and JJ run to Reid's side. I can only watch in horror as Jacob disappears under the loft. Before I can swing myself below, the sound of a vehicle starting roars through the barn. An open topped Jeep zooms out from under us. I react by throwing myself over the ledge into the back.

Jacob rips through the barn doors. He glances back and sees me. He pulls hard to the right. I grab onto whatever's closest to me but am still nearly thrown out of the vehicle. Emily isn't so lucky. She slides out of the door before either one of can catch her.

I make the decision in a split second. If I jump, Jacob will be free, but if I stay Emily could die. She may already be dead. Jacob whips the vehicle again to the left. My muscles scream against the pressure of holding on. Dirt and dust fly into the air, blocking my view of the front of the vehicle.

I fire in the spot I think Jacob should be then swing out over the back of the Jeep. Rocks slice painfully into my sides and face. I roll several times before coming to a stop. The breath is knocked out of me, and it feels like an eternity before I can stand.

I have no sense of direction. I can hear the sound of the Jeep grow progressively quieter. Another dull roar takes its place: the sound of approaching helicopters. I grab my torso in an attempt to lessen the stabbing sensation stemming from my ribs and begin to walk back to the barn.

The grass is almost up to my knees. When I see the long indentation in the grass, I know it's her. I stumble forwards and kneel by her side.

Her eyes are closed, and in the darkness I can't tell if her chest is moving or not. I place two of my fingers against her neck. I panic when I don't feel any movement under my fingertips, but a second later, I feel a weak throb.

I reach down and grab her hands in mine, just like I did before. "Emily, if you can hear me, don't go. Don't leave me again. Emily, I love you. Please, don't leave me. Help is coming. Please."

I can't describe the fear as we laid there for an unrecognizable amount of time. I stared at her face, and, through all her injuries, I knew she was beautiful still. Through everything the world could throw at her, Emily would always come back stronger. She would always conquer the darkness. I loved her for that. I saw everything light in the world in her eyes. With all the darkness that surrounds us every day, that spark of life never leaves her eyes.

I have to have the chance to tell her these things. Flashlights shine on her body. A second later, men are trying to take her away from me. I fight to keep her in my arms, but they pull me away. They pull her onto a stretcher, and I follow her to the helicopter.

* * *

**"**Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."

-Kahlil Gibran-

* * *

***nervous face* I know it was horrible of me, but if the world was fair, Paget never would have left the show. Tell me what's goin through your heads!**


	14. The First Day

**This chapter was extremely exhausting to write. So many _feelings_. I hope you like it! **

* * *

"A tragedy need not blood and death; it is enough that it all be filled with that majestic sadness that is the pleasure of tragedy."

-Jean Racine-

* * *

EMILY'S POV

When I wake up, I'm left with a strange feeling of euphoria. Reality mixes with images I know can't be real. I believed in angels once, but that was a long time ago. But now they were standing over me, clothed in white. Swirling lights silhouette their forms creating dark lines.

I try to hold onto the light. I reach out to the angels, but I always slip back into the darkness. It's different than the calm, numbing void I'd experienced before. This darkness is chaos. There is no form, no end to its madness. I'm alone in this darkness, rolling in eternal depths. I scream for someone to help me, but my voice is drowned out in the immensity of the dark.

Several more times I see the light and the angels. Each time its harder to hold onto them. I beg for them to help me, to protect me from the darkness, but each time I fall back mercilessly in its depths.

Lauren is there too, somewhere, but she is more terrified of the darkness than I am. She knows that darkness means death. I accepted our death; she is still fighting it.

Again the darkness disappears, but this time the lights aren't so bright. There are no angels. I can feel my body, and after several seconds I can hear the sound of machines beeping next to me. I prepare myself for the intense pain I know it waiting for me when I try to move, but when I twist my fingers, there is nothing accept a dull ache from my upper arm.

I look down, and I see more white. My mind registers the word hospital before I completely comprehend what's happened. _I'm alive._ Images float around in my head. Most of them are tainted red and blurred with remembered pain, but they're concrete memories. I try to cling to them, to remember how I got here, but my head starts to spin.

Lauren gives her own memories. Hours of relentless pain. My family being lined in front of us. Paralyzing fear. The sound of a gunshot. The feeling of flying. Then total darkness, and through the darkness...his voice.

"Derek..." I moan unsure whether I would be able to speak. My throat cracks, and I suck in air.

I turn to look around which causes my head to spin. I wait for the walls to quit moving. I'm in a small hospital room, alone. For some reason, I thought he would be here for me when I woke up. He had been there, in the beginning, when the darkness wasn't total yet. I remember his voice. He said he would be here...

I rip the tubes from my arm and nostrils. The machines buzz loud in my ears. I attempt to sit up, but I have to grip the railings of the bed to avoid falling back. I wait for the room to settle again before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My left leg cries out against the movement, but the pain is bearable now.

I hold onto an IV stand next to the bed and pull myself to my feet. I grunt against the throbbing in my head. The door isn't far. I don't know where I'm going, but I can't stay here alone.

I start to take a step forward, but then someone appears in the doorway. She gasps and drops the coffee cup in her hand. It splashes to the ground at her feet. "Emily," JJ whispers. She rushes over to my side. "What are you doing up? Here, lie down." She takes both my hands and gently sets me down on the bed.

I stare at her. I'm so relieved to see her alive. My last memories of her are all blurry and jumbled together. I can see yellow and purple bruises on her neck. One of her eyes is slightly discolored, and there are deep bags under both her eyes. Her cheeks are hollow as if she hasn't slept or ate in days, but she's alive. "JJ," I manage to say finally.

She looks at me and smiles weakly. She sits down on the bed next to me. I reach across and squeeze her hand in mine. For several seconds, neither of us say anything. There aren't words to make right what happened. Nothing we could say would take away the memories.

"What's happened?" I ask quietly. I'm terrified of the answer.

She bites on her bottom lip, something she only does when she's hiding something. "JJ, tell me. Please..."

JJ sighs and looks me in the eyes. "Jacob escaped."

I choke back a scream. My stomach knots, and I have to squeeze her hand again for comfort.

"No one can find him." She continues. "He just...disappeared."

I let that news soak in. I've lived in fear before. I know how exhausting it is to never be able to sleep soundly, to never be able to truly let people into my life because I know my past could hurt them. My deepest fears had been realized, but now, when the nightmare should be over, it seemed that it was only just beginning.

"JJ, I'm so sorry...I never wanted any of you to be a part of this. I never..." I take my other hand and raise it to one of the bruises on her neck. "I never wanted this to happen. I tried..." I tried to make things right. I tried to save them from this, but it hadn't been enough.

She closes her eyes. I lower my hand and bow my head. I can see bruises that have just barely begun to heal across her wrists. "JJ...did they..." I can't bring myself to say the words. I let the question hang in the air.

"No," she says finally. I look at her. Her eyes are open again. They are different than I remember. They are haunted, scared. "Emily, listen to me. This is not your fault. What happened out there...Jacob did that. Not you. You protected us."

"I didn't do a very good job."

JJ doesn't say anything because she knows I'm right. When she speaks, her voice is quiet. "Don't do that," she says.

I look at her in confusion. "What?"

"Don't try and push us away again. Don't try and bear all of this by yourself, Emily. We are here for you."

I want to argue with her and explain that I don't deserve what she's trying to give. She doesn't have to feel obligated to comfort me when I'm the cause of all of this. I push down my self-loathing. "I...know."

"Tell me this isn't your fault. I want to hear you say it."

I swallow hard. "This isn't my fault." The lie tastes like acid in my mouth, and I only hate myself that much more. She smiles at me again, but it's a hollow smile, a shadow of what it used to be. "How are the others?" I try to remember anything I can, but all it is shapes and sounds that don't make sense when I try to put them together.

JJ frowns. "Maybe you should get some rest."

"No, I'm fine. How are the others?" I repeat the question, this time more intensely. My tone causes her to flinch, and she won't meet my eyes. "JJ." I order. Panic is rising in my stomach. I try to stand to my feet again, but she grabs my shoulders and pulls me back onto the bed. "Tell me."

JJ sighs. She runs her hand through her hair. After another second of hesitation, she glances out the door then finally looks at me. "Rossi is fine. His arm's in a sling, but other than that he's okay. He hasn't left the hospital though." She tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a whimper.

I wait for her to continue.

"Hotch...Hotch is stable and conscious, but he has a few broken ribs. His nose and jaw are broken too..."

I let go of her hand. I want to shrivel back into the darkness, but I force myself to keep my eyes and expression even.

"Morgan has a few cuts and bruises, but nothing major..."

I wait for more, but she keeps looking out the door.

"Reid, JJ. What about Reid?" The panic that had slowly been building twists my stomach and tightens my throat. I hear a gunshot in the back of my head. I see Reid go limp on top of Jacob. I see his blood, and then I hear screaming.

I gasp as this memory bombards me. I try to shield myself from it with my arms, but it doesn't do away. The images are real, and I can't escape them. JJ wraps their arms around me, and I grab onto them. She keeps me grounded in reality. "Is he alive?" I murmur. I can't get the memory to stop playing over and over in my head.

"He's...he's alive, Emily, but-" her voice stops short.

I dare to open my eyes. "Emily," someone whispers. _He_ whispers.

There's a moment when the world stops spinning, and, just for a second, everything is okay. Derek's eyes are opened wide. He stares at me from the doorway. He's smiling, and I allow myself to smile back at him.

"Derek..." his name lingers on my lips.

JJ squeezes my shoulders then lets go. She stands to her feet. Her face, despite her effort, is still set in a hard frown. The sinking feeling in my stomach comes back when I look at her. "I'm going to check on Hotch. Garcia seems to think that since he can't talk she needs to chatter enough for the both of them." She takes my hand again and gives a reassuring squeeze. "I'm so happy you're okay." She says then leaves the room. She brushes her hand lightly against Derek's arm as she disappears.

I watch where she left for several seconds before looking at him again. He hesitates before walking closer. I realize now there's bright purple flowers in his hands. I gesture at them. "I'm not sure Hotch likes the color purple." There's a memory associated with those flowers that tries to break through, but Lauren holds it back from me.

I don't have time to wonder why because he chuckles. "I'll just have to give them to Reid then-" his eyes get wide again, and he glares at the ground.

"Derek, what...what happened to him?" I'm not caught off guard this time when the memory forces its way to the surface, but it still takes my breath away. I have to grip the side of the bed and grit my teeth to keep from losing it again.

He doesn't say anything for long seconds. "Not right now."

I start to argue with him, but he shushes me with one motion. "He's...he's going to be okay."

"You don't believe that." I say.

He grimaces and sets the flowers down on the side table. "Yes, I do." He meets my eyes, and his jaw muscles tense. He stares at me like I'm treasured toy that's been broken. "How do you feel?"

"Don't try to change the subject."

He sighs. "I will tell you. I promise. Just...not now." The pain in voice is more evident than I've ever heard it. Derek doesn't show sadness. He views it as a form of weakness, and his life taught him to never be weak. "How are you feeling?" He repeats.

I have to think about that. My head is pounding, and my entire body is sore. "Good." I lie.

He grimaces. "Don't lie to me."

I sigh and twiddle my thumbs like a scolded child. "I'll be okay."

He reaches across the distance between us and takes both my hands in his. I look up at him, curiously. His expression is apologetic, and it sickens me. He has nothing to be sorry for. Not one of us would be alive if weren't for him. "I let him get away." His voice cracks. "Emily, I'm so sorry. You fell out of the Jeep, and I just...I shot at him...but I couldn't leave you there...he got away. Jacob got away. I'm sorry."

"Derek Morgan, don't you ever apologize to me. Me and everyone I care about would be dead if it weren't for what you did." I beg him to understand that I owe him everything.

"I will find him though," he says, ignoring my comment all together. "I will find him and kill him. He will not get away with what he did to you." Again his voice cracks audibly. He stares at my face. One of his hands reaches up and brushes across my cheek. I can only imagine what he must see. His touch leaves a trail of fire across my skin, but I lean into his warmth.

"I don't care." I say bringing my hand on top of his and keeping it against my face.

He stares at me dumbfounded. "What do you mean you don't care? Emily, he's out ther-"

I cut him off. "I don't care," this is the moment. The moment when I plunge into new and strange waters. Perhaps the medication is messing with my mind, or perhaps the knowledge that I had almost lost him again was enough for me realize that I didn't want to live without him. That I couldn't. "I don't care because you're here."

* * *

"It was once said that love is giving someone the ability to destroy you and trusting them not to."

-Derek Morgan-


	15. Family Ties

"When a good man is hurt, all who are called good must suffer with him."

-Euripides-

* * *

I wait for him to say something or for his expression to change, but he just stares back at me. I shake my head and tear my eyes away from him in humiliation. Of course he doesn't feel that way anymore. I put everyone he cares about in danger, and I will never be able to give him what he deserves. Someone unbroken. Someone who can forget their past, and I can't do that.

I'm surprised when I feel his hand, which is still pressed against my cheek, cup my chin and guide me to look at him again. His eyes are soft, beautiful. He's studying me, and I wonder what he sees. Can he see Lauren in my eyes? Is she not only in here with me, but somehow showing through to the outside? "Emily..." there are so many emotions conveyed in that one word: hesitation, sadness, fear, love.

"Whatever happens next, I want to be with you. I _need_ to be with you." I say in desperation. I need him to understand that. I need him to know that what happened that night at his apartment wasn't just a fluke. Every night, I pictured him next to me. When my nightmares were all too present, and dreams of him weren't enough I had to see him.

His eyes narrow slightly. I can see the words he wants to say, but he shakes his head slightly. "You don't know what you're saying...you're-" he doesn't get to finish because I erase the distance between us. I press my lips lightly against his. They are different, softer, than I imagined.

My heart drops when he doesn't immediately kiss me back, but then I feel his hand gingerly pull me in closer. He doesn't push himself on me. In fact, its like he's trying not to touch me at all. I sigh and lean back. He looks away from me.

The humiliation is overwhelming. "I'm sorry," I murmur. I want to fade away again. Anything to be out of this place. Anything so I don't have to look at the sadness on his face.

"No, I am." He whispers. We sit there for several minutes in total silence. "Emily," he says finally. I look at him, terrified of what I'll find. I can't lose him. If I can't have him, fine, but I need him to stay with me even if what I'm feeling is unrequited. "when I lost you the first time-" I flinch when he says 'the first time'. It implies that he has lost me again. "I was lost. I was going through the motions: laughing, talking, this job, going home like my world wasn't collapsing around me. Just _breathing _felt wrong."

His words are like daggers to my heart. I want to apologize, to tell him that every day I thought about him and the rest of the team. My world wasn't complete without them, but he wants me to say something else. He wants me to tell him that I missed _him, _but I can't do that. When Ian was still alive, my heart belonged to him, and I can't tell Derek that. I squeeze his hand comfortingly. "I'm so sorry..." My apology is pathetic, and I feel guilty that I can't give him more.

"I was mad at you too. Oh, I was so _angry_ at you for leaving." He meets my eyes again. "But you came back. You came back to me, or at least part of you did."

I swallow hard. This is the moment where I could confess everything. I could tell him about Lauren, her feelings for Ian, and her hatred for all of them. Lauren has been quiet, sulking, since her initial anger. Now she speaks to me.

_Tell him, Emily. Tell him about me, about how weak you were. Tell him that if weren't for me, you would have died in that barn. _Her tone is acidic, but all her hatred isn't pointed at me. I recoil from the anger she feels towards Derek. _He's the one, _she says, _he's the reason Ian is dead. _

"Part of you stayed in that warehouse, and I never could bring it back to you." I hear shame in his voice, and it draws me out of my head.

I tighten my grip on his hand. "Do not blame yourself for my weakness. _I _wasn't able to move on...I was holding onto the past. I couldn't forget." I know he'll believe I was talking about the torture or nearly being killed. For now, I'll let him believe that because I can't take the chance of losing him.

_You will though. I will never let you be happy with him._

He waits long moments before responding. "I could never ask you to forget something like that, and I could never ask you to do it now."

"I-"

"_bella_!"

I turn my eyes from Derek, but not before seeing him scowl. I smile at Rossi who is standing in the doorway. He's dressed in his usual, if not too formal, Italian clothes. His left arm is pulled up in a sling, but other than that he looks completely normal. JJ told me he was okay, but seeing him finally made it real. I suddenly felt guilty that I had been so selfish, so worried about talking to Derek, that I hadn't thought to go visit them.

My unanswered questions concerning Reid flare up again, but for now I want to enjoy seeing Rossi. Derek pulls his hands away from me and takes a chair across the room. "Rossi," I feel my smile widen with his. I hold out my arms.

He crosses the small room and bends down into my embrace, but, just like Derek and JJ, he barely touches me. I sigh and lean back to look at him. "I'm so glad you're okay." The words don't seem like enough to describe how I feel. 'okay' doesn't do justice to the word 'alive'.

He nods. "You too. How are you, uh, feeling?"

"Better," I say preferring not to lie to them when it's avoidable.

"Good." Everything hangs in the air: what we experienced, what we saw. There aren't words. As the memories become more solidified, I know that none of us will ever be the same. Derek said I never left the warehouse, and now our team would never leave that barn.

"How's Hotch?" I ask in an attempt to avoid silence at any cost.

"He's on a lot of pain meds, but he'll recover."

"What about Reid?" I try to ask the question nonchalantly, but my voice raises and cracks at him name.

Rossi grimaces and glances at Derek. Derek shakes his head. "I deserve to know," I say. "Whatever it is, I can take it. Just please, tell me or I swear to God I will crawl out of this room if I have to."

Rossi sighs. He sits down next to me, but it's several seconds before he speaks. "Jacob's bullet hit Red extremely close to the heart. He lost a lot of blood..."

"JJ said he was alive," I argue pathetically before he has a chance to continue.

"He is," Rossi assures, "but, Emily, the doctors had to medically induce him into a coma. He was in surgery for over twenty hours. They were able to stabilize him, but..." Rossi furrows his brow. He sighs heavily, and suddenly I can see his façade falling. The dark circles under his eyes become more prominent, as does the defeated slump in his posture. He seems to age ten years before my eyes. His voice is quiet and reserved, but I can still hear his exhaustion. "he hasn't come out of it yet." The way he ends his words, I know there's more he's not telling me, but for now I worry about what he did.

It's like I'm back in the barn, and Jacob's foot has smashed against my rib cage, stealing my air. I'm unable to inhale or exhale. Rossi is examining me, measuring my reaction. I choke down the panic. I know if I lose it Rossi won't tell me anymore or let me see Reid, and that's what I desperately want.

"How long?" I finally manage to whisper. There's too much terror in my voice. I force myself to inhale through my nostrils and exhale through my mouth.

"Two days." He answers.

I'm shocked. That means that not only has Reid been unresponsive for the last two days, but I have been as well. Then fleeting memories of angels flash across my mind. Perhaps I hadn't been unconscious all that time. Perhaps I had awakened, panicked and terrified, forcing them to sedate me until I could control myself again. I wonder if I had even been myself during those times, or if Lauren had taken over in my absence.

_I wouldn't let you have the control back again. I can promise you that. _She snaps. Having Rossi and Derek so close has her on edge, but I can feel her satisfaction at the news of Reid. _It was his idea to take Ian to that damned place._

Images of Ian dying, reaching out to his son on that air strip force their way forward. I push back her memories, and again concentrate on Reid.

"I want to see him." My voice is still shaky, but I put everything into sounding in control. I meet Rossi's eyes.

He looks at me with sympathy. "_Bella,_ you aren't well enough."

I start to argue with him, but before I can, Derek's voice stops me. "I'll go get a nurse and a wheelchair." Before Rossi or I can stop him, he's out the door.

I stare at the doorway and sigh. "How is he?" I ask.

Rossi doesn't need names to know that I'm talking about Derek now. The embarrassment from our conversation together was snuffed out by the news about Reid, but now I can feel my cheeks warm. I'm all of a sudden thankful for the bruises covering my humiliation.

"It's been a rough three days for us all. He only ever left your room to get coffee. He was worried about you. We all were."

I close my eyes, accepting this new information. Of course Derek hadn't left my side. Despite everything I'd out him through, he was caring for me. Again, I think about the kiss. There could be an infinite number of reasons he hadn't kissed me back besides that he no longer loved me, but the not knowing was tearing my already unstable mentality apart.

"Rossi..."

"Don't," he says, "don't you dare start apologizing. I know you, Emily, and don't you even think about blaming yourself for any of this."

"I-it is my fault." My walls crumble. Tears brim my eyes. What self-control I had collapses, and I fold into his arms. The guilt is too much to bear. The nightmare around me won't go away.

Rossi wraps me in his good arm and starts rocking me like a child. I hiccup and try unsuccessfully to stop the tears. "You're right," he says.

I cling tighter to him, careful to avoid his sling.

"If you weren't on this team, Hotch and I wouldn't have gained a daughter-"

"Rossi," I want him to stop, but he ignores my quiet plea.

"JJ, Penelope, and Reid wouldn't have another sister, and Derek, well, Derek would never have met the one person who could steal his heart."

His words are like daggers to my heart, but the tears have stopped. I still clutch him for support. "The danger I put you in...everything I did..."

"Everything you did protected us, your family. Families stick together, always. When you became a member of this family, your enemies became ours, as well. We knew that, and we accepted it. When you and Reid were being held by Cyrus, what happened?"

I'm confused at his question. "What do you mean?"

"What did you do to protect Reid?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I...I told him I was an FBI Agent." I quickly explain myself even though I know Rossi knows the story. "He was going to kill Reid...I couldn't let that happen."

"You protected him." Rossi says.

I nod against his chest, feeling like a child being consoled by a parent after a hard day at school.

"And what did you tell him after it was over?"

I realize what he's trying to do now. "It's not the same thing-"

"What did you tell him?" He says sternly.

"I told him it wasn't his fault."

"And he would tell you the same thing now. Emily, we all will."

I realize the logic in his words, but it did nothing to take away the racking guilt that I had put their lives in danger, that they were still in danger because of me. "Even when Jacob comes back?" It's not a question in my mind whether or not Jacob will come back for me and my family. I'd profiled a hundred monsters just like him. They never stopped until the job was done, until the fantasy perfectly played out.

Rossi doesn't say anything for a long moment. "He won't get away this time." He's so sure in his words that I look up at him to see if his expression matches. He's looking down at me, a grim smile on his face.

I nod and sit back up, leaving my hand clasped in his. Seconds later, Derek and a brunette nurse, toting a wheelchair, walk into the room. Derek won't meet my eyes no matter how desperately I try.

I dread the moment when we can no longer avoid the inevitable: when he will either accept or deny my affection. With so much else happening, I wonder had I can even think about romance, but it's so much more than that now. Derek is a lifeline. Without him, I know that the nightmares will win. I know that Lauren's resentment will rule my life. I know that I will never leave that barn.

For now though, I push back those feelings because Reid needs me, and I still haven't seen Hotch or Penelope. I think about what Rossi said about a family sticking together and wonder if our ties are strong enough to patch the holes that Jacob ripped in our lives. I pray they are.

* * *

"Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel free to delight in whatever sunshine remains for them?"

-Rose Kennedy-

* * *

**Y'all have been amazing, and your support and excitement for this story is what motivates me to keep this story going. Thank you so much!**


	16. Separation

**I kind of ran away with this chapter and threw a lot in, though not much happened...if that makes sense. Things pick back up after this chapter, so stick with me! **

* * *

"In life, unlike chess, the game continues long after checkmate."

-Isaac Asimov-

* * *

"I really don't think the wheelchair is necessary," I scowl even though I know none of them will listen to me. Derek is pushing the wheelchair; Rossi is walking on my left; the nurse, whose name is Karen, is walking on my right.

Karen was sweet, but I found her very annoying. She spent ten minutes, that I should have been with Reid, checking my vitals, examining my wounds, replacing bandages, and asking how much pain I was in. I gritted my teeth through it while Rossi laughed at me. Derek hasn't spoken a word since he came back except to say the only I was leaving my room was in a wheelchair.

"I could use crutches," I continue, yet even as I say the words I know they're not true. I can barely cross my arms without the pain from my wounds spiking.

"Em, give it a rest. We're almost there." Rossi says, trying to form a happy smile on his face. To anyone else, it would seem legitimate, but we were profilers. I saw the sadness, the weariness, in his features that no fake smile could take away.

I quit harassing them however and search for what room could be Reid's. I wonder who else will be there. I'm sure JJ is, but Penelope might still be with Hotch. I want to see Penelope so bad. I want to see her laugh as only she could laugh after something like this. She will smile, and it will be real, genuine.

We turn down a hallway, then three doors later, turn right into a room. It's bigger than mine, with more machines. Reid is there. I stop breathing again until my lungs remind me that they need air. "Reid," I gasp.

I've heard people say it looks like they're asleep. My grandfather did at his funeral, and Reid does now too. His eyes are closed. His breathing is slow and even. There's no blood on face, no sweat in his hair. He looks perfectly serene, but I know it is a beautiful lie.

Derek pushes me forward where I can touch him, but my hands stay pathetically still against the chair. Emotionally I'm numb. I thought I would break down once I saw him. I thought all the guilt would finally break me, but I don't feel anything looking at his face. "Is he in pain?" I ask quietly.

"No," Karen assures. "He isn't in any pain at all."

I nod my head robotically. "Good."

There must be something in my voice because Rossi gives me a questioning 'Emily'.

I take my eyes off Reid and turn to him. JJ is there now too. Her eyes are swollen and red. Her cheeks are streaked with fresh tears. That's what I should be doing now: crying for my comrade, my brother. But reality seems to have suddenly slipped out from under me.

Going through the motions, Derek had called it. I didn't want to think about the crash once reality set in again. For now though I could be strong for them. I look at Karen who is standing apart from the rest of us out of respect. "How long until he wakes up?"

I see out of the corner of my eyes that all three of my team members cringe at the question.

Karen glances at them, and Derek nods at her. She hesitates another second. "We don't know. It's up to him." The way she says it makes me scoff. None of this was 'up to him'. He never had a say in any of this.

Reid was strong though. He would come out of this. Perhaps he was floating somewhere in his mind, swimming through list after list of statistics. Perhaps he was reading some eighteenth century poem that his mother read to him when he was a kid. Perhaps he was relishing in the peace and quiet of his mind before he had to awaken to this nightmare.

I look back at Reid, studying his face. I reach out and take his hand in mine. The warmth is another mask for the stillness of his body. I think about shaking him, just to see if he'll wake up.

It isn't until someone gently places their hand on my shoulder and I look up at them that I realize entire minutes have passed. Karen and Rossi are no longer in the room. It's JJ who has her hand on me. "Emily, do you want to go see Hotch?" Her face isn't tear stained anymore, and she seems the most in control of herself since I've woken up.

I sigh and squeeze Reid's hand tighter. I don't want to leave him here, but I do want to see Hotch and Penelope. "I will stay with him, Em. He won't be alone. He'll be here when you get back." She says the last part almost resentfully.

I nod. "Okay," she tries her haunted smile again, but it falls flat.

Derek wheels me out of the room. We travel in total silence, but I don't try to break it. The numbness of seeing Reid still paralyzes me. Not even Lauren's amusement can force any retaliation out of me. I wonder if this will be the new me: too broken to even feel grief for my family.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts as Derek turns us into another room that almost mirrors my own. My eyes land on the man in the bed for a split second before my vision is covered in neon orange and bright yellow. "Emily!" Penelope shouts. She wraps me in her arms around me. I hold back the squeal as her embrace tightens on my sore arms.

A small whimper escapes my lips however causing her instantly let go of me. "Oh my God!" She squeals. Her face drops is exaggerated horror. "Emily, I'm so sorry! I totally forgot about...I'm just so, so, so happy to see you!"

A small nod is the acceptance I give her. I don't trust my voice. I feel that if I start talking, everything will pour out of me, and I will lose the control I have now. The numbness will go away, and I will be left to face the nightmare again.

Her million dollar smile returns. I can't help but to think of her as a ray of sunshine, especially in her orange and yellow attire. I wish I could feel her warmth through my numbness. "I bounced between your room, Hotch's and Reid's. I wanted to be there when all three of you wake up. It looks like I missed you, but I can go for two out of three after Reid wakes up."

I force a smile. I wish I could believe in her optimism.

She moves out of the way, and I see Hotch lying in his bed. A small, distant part of me throbs with grief when I see him. His face, despite the days since the attack, is swollen and bruised. A bandage wraps under his jaw and encircles his face. I remember someone saying he has a broken jaw, but whether or not that's real I can't remember.

He tries to sit up, but gasps and leans back against the bed. That small sound of air painfully leaving his body is all it takes, and I see him being dragged into the barn, already bloody. Then Byron's huge form looming over him. The man's feet connecting with Hotch's torso, his face, whatever was closest. I hear myself screaming, and it's only when I'm out in the hallway again where I can't see his face, that I realize I'm not in the memory anymore.

Yet I can't stop screaming. The nightmare isn't over. It never will be. I start to close my eyes to try and block out the images when suddenly, Derek's in front of me. He grips either side of my face. For the first time, he puts pressure against my cheek forcing me to look at him. The pain is dull compared to the terror. "Emily," it sounds like he's a thousand miles away or deep under water. Only his hands against my face remind me that he's close.

I've stopped screaming, at least, but now I'm panting because I can't catch my breath. "I saw it..." I gasp, willing him to understand. His eyes stare back at me painfully.

"I know, Emily, but it's okay. I'm here now. I'm here."

His voice is so soothing, so near to me that I'm able to slowly reel myself back in. I take hold of both his hands and keep them against my face. He's holding me lightly now that my panic attack is over. I can see behind him now, three nurses. I swallow hard knowing at any second they could knock me back into unconsciousness. "I'm fine," I whisper, not trusting my own voice.

The nurses don't leave until Derek turns and mutters something to them. Hesitantly, they back away until I can't see them. I know that we can't really be alone, but for a second I let myself believe it. I use my hips to push myself into his chest. I can feel him stiffen, but then he concedes allowing me to fold into him.

His hands move to my back, and I pull my aching arms over his shoulders and lay my head in the nape of his neck. I inhale his cologne feeling what I haven't felt in days: safety.

Of course, I know it can't last forever, but when he does pull away from me, I cling to him for a second longer before leaning back into the wheelchair. My nerves are still unsettled from the panic attack, so when I see a strange man standing behind Derek, I nearly jump out of my seat.

Derek takes my hand quickly and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Emily," his voice is soft, almost patronizing, "this is Calvin. He...he helped me. He was with me in the-" I can see him struggling with words, trying not to say anything that might send me into madness again.

I study the man next to him. He's taller than Derek, built strong. He holds himself like someone who has the weight of the world on his shoulders. There's always that slump that gives away your grief. The darkened look in the eye that no amount of trying can hide. I realize he must have lost someone he cared about, someone he considered family. Possibly more than one.

All at the hands of Jacob.

"Calvin..." I hold out my hand, the one Derek isn't clutching, to him.

He hesitates then finally takes my hand and gives it a quick, light shake. What is it with people thinking I'm going to fall apart at the smallest touch? I'm suddenly very self-conscious of my appearance. I realize I haven't seen myself since I'd woken up. Perhaps their hesitation is granted. Then I remember I just came out of a panic attack. I grit my teeth and decide from then on I will be in control of this situation, or at least appear to be in control.

"Thank you for...for saving my family." The words don't seem like enough, but it's a start.

Calvin waits a second as if appraising my words. "You're welcome." He says stiffly before turning to Derek. I try not to take his stern, almost dismissive, tone personally. He's been through hell, too, apparently. "Can I talk to you privately?"

I squeeze Derek's hand, but he nods at Calvin. "I will be right back, Emily." Suddenly, I hear the exhaustion in his voice. I force my fingers to uncoil from his. Derek calls for Rossi and then seconds later he's gone.

Rossi stands by me. "Hey, _bella_," he says.

"I messed up big, huh? Are you going to let me back in there?" I lasso my mind in and focus all of my energy on maintaining my self-control.

Rossi taps his fingers over his crossed arms. "I don't know. Maybe we should give it a few minutes."

I know a few minutes won't change anything, but maybe if I can wait until Derek comes back it won't be so hard this time. Maybe if he's holding my hand instead of pushing me in this wheelchair the memories won't take over again. I nod and settle into silence.

Hotch's door is closed, but after a minute or so, I can hear Penelope's muddled voice through it. I catch myself smiling as I imagine Hotch listening to her babble then I see his face in my head and the smile disappears.

Rossi has slumped down next to my chair. Oddly, no one comes down the hallway. When I see the black uniform standing at the end of the hall, I realize why. I wonder how I missed the guards the first time, and then I remember that we are still in danger.

After several minutes, I look at Rossi, who has his eyes closed and head leaned against the wall. I don't think he's asleep, but I don't want to wake him. I know sleep must be hard fought for all of them. "It's okay, Emily," he says when I pull my hand back just before shaking him. "I'm not asleep."

I try a chuckle, but it comes out as more of a hiccup. I lick my lips and try again. Apparently, whatever Calvin needed Derek for is going to take longer than I'm willing to wait. "I think...I think I'm ready to go in."

His eyes open and focus in on me. I expect him to argue, to badger me with questions and test my statement, but he simply stands to his feet and maneuvers me back into the room.

This time, Penelope doesn't bombard me. She's more guarded, but her arms twitch as if they desperately want to wrap me up again. I take a deep breath, and focus in on Hotch.

His eyes are open, or as open as they can be, and staring straight at me. Rossi wheels me within feet of his bed, just out of arms reach. I feel tears in my eyes and blink them away. He's laying with his hands at his side, and the one closest to me lifts from the bed.

I raise my own hand, and Rossi pushes my forward until I can take Hotch's grip. It's stronger than I would have imagined. I know this is Hotch's way of telling me that he is okay, that it isn't as bad as it looks.

"You look like hell," I murmur, attempting a smile. This time, miraculously, I feel my lips curve upwards.

His lips twitch, too, and I tell myself he is smiling back at me. His other hand points at me, and now I laugh, though the humor never really breaks through the aching in my chest. _So do you,_ he says to me.

Penelope's there the next second, sitting next to Hotch, and Rossi comes around to where I can see him. At the sight of them, together, not completely unbroken, but not shattered either, I feel hopeful that one day, this nightmare will end.

"He's been asking about you, well, not exactly asking, more like signaling, about you for the last three days. He wanted to come see you, but the doctor's said that he needed to stay in bed and let his ribs heal a bit more before he tried to get up. You should have seen the look he gave them." Penelope attempts a stern, hard face set in a grimace, but it comes out so comical I can't stop the small chuckle.

The grins at having gotten me to laugh. "How have you been, Penelope?" I ask.

"Oh, you know, taking care of my little ducks. Making sure they stay in line." She smiles her cheeky, quirky smile, but I can see the dark circles under her eyes, the new lines around her mouth. This has to be tearing her apart, seeing us all in pain. She must have found the video feed. I wonder how much she saw before they were able to rescue me, how much darkness had seeped into her world because of me?

And she didn't answer my question. Sooner or later, I would have to make her tell me how _she_ was doing, not the rest of us, but that could wait until we were alone.

Minutes pass, and it's mostly Penelope who keeps the conversation flowing. She gets Rossi and I to laugh more than once. Hotch even grunted once, but that could just be from pain. I'm just starting to worry about Derek and contemplating asking Rossi what on earth he could be doing that would take this long when he walks through the door.

I feel my heart begin to race at the sight of him. "I was starting to get a little worried about you," I confess, adding humor to my voice to mask the truth.

"I'm sorry," but his eyes only stay on me for a second then they're on Rossi and Hotch.

"What did he say?" Rossi asks.

"They're ready. As soon as Hotch is cleared, we move out."

Move out where? Where could we be safe besides this hospital? Or is this hospital even safe? The thought of Jacob in the same four walls as me and my family threatens to throw me back into terror, but I grit my teeth and wait for answers. I wasn't going to give into the paranoia.

"What about Reid?" Penelope chimes in. Of course. Reid can't go anywhere, and we can't leave him here alone.

"He will stay until...he wakes up." Derek's voice is hard, and he won't look at me to answer my questions. I realize then that I haven't spoken.

"What are you talking about?" I inquire, keeping my voice even.

Again, there's a second of hesitation. Only now they're not withholding touches but information. Finally Penelope takes my hand in hers. I look at her questioningly. "They're putting us all in witness protection in pairs." She adds the last part as in afterthought, trying to play it off nonchalantly.

But I can't do that. "They're separating us?" I yell, louder than I intended. Anger and fear tear through my meager defenses, and along with them come the memories. I imagine each of them, even Penelope, being torn apart by Byron's boots and Jacob's knife. I hear him laughing as I scream. This time, Derek's face doesn't pull me back into reality. I'm vaguely aware of slipping back into the darkness that I know will terrorize me. As the silence closes in, I hear the echo of Jacob's laughter, but there is a feminine tone to it.

And I know that Lauren is laughing.

* * *

"Security is almost a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men experience it."

-Helen Keller-


	17. Sturdy as Glass

**There's a big time jump, and I kind of skip over a lot. I plan on using flashbacks/context to sort of explain everything that happened between this chapter and the last eventually if necessary. Enjoy all you DEmily diehards. **

* * *

"I think the truly natural things are dreams, which nature can't touch with decay."

-Bob Dylan-

* * *

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

I scream and flail against the ties holding me to the chair. He's coming for me. He's so close. I can smell his breath, feel his hands roaming over my arms. I scream louder and fight harder against my restraints, but I don't go anywhere. I feel his blade begin to dig into my skin-

"Emily!"

The barn disappears. Instead, I'm in a bedroom. It's not a hard chair under me but a plush bed. I gasp and try to understand how I got here when I realize I still can't move my arms. The panic starts to resurface when I hear his voice again, not Jacob's. Derek's.

"Emily," he says softer now.

In the dark, I can just make out his form over me. It's not wire holding me down only his hands. "Derek..." I whisper, not letting myself believe it's really him.

"Yeah, Emily." His voice is relaxed, but his hands stay firm on my elbows.

"It was just a dream?" I ask.

"Yes, it was just a dream. I'm here. You're safe here."

I have the vague recognition that he's said that to me before, maybe more than once. "You can let go." I attempt to speak louder, but my throat cracks. My mouth feels dry and scratchy.

He waits another second.

"I'm fine," I say into the darkness. But I know I'm not. I can feel myself shaking. I'm still not for sure this isn't some dream that I'll be ripped out of any second and be thrust back into reality where Jacob is waiting for me. It's only when I feel Lauren roaming at the back of my mind that I become completely sure I'm awake. It's odd that her presence has become comforting to me.

_Give it time, Emily. I will find a way. _

Of course, I haven't been awake five seconds, and she's already threatening me.

Derek scoots off of me, but one of his hands stays intertwined with mine. I maneuver myself under his arm and lay my head across his chest. The heat from his body soothes me until I feel the terror slowly begin to ebb. Eventually I stop shaking. This has become our ritual.

In the beginning, we tried to sleep in separate beds, but even during the day being in a different room than him terrified me. Some days I can't even let go of his hand. And at night, when I'm completely vulnerable to my mind, it's so much worse. Between Lauren and the nightmares, I rarely sleep. I usually just lay against him, listening to his heart beat, fighting back the memories.

Tonight had been one of the nights I'd managed to doze off. I always woke up, screaming and flailing until Derek manages to coax me back into sanity.

I curl up closer to him, until I'm almost on top of him, but he doesn't protest. His arm wraps around me keeping me grounded in reality. "He killed Hotch." I murmur into his chest.

Derek's arm tenses as it always does when I explain my nightmares to him. "No, he didn't Emily. It was only a nightmare. Hotch is safe, too. We all are."

I swallow hard and attempt to separate what is real and what is a nightmare. Derek's right. Hotch is safe. He and Jack were moved to another safe house. I can't remember where right now.

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

He sighs. "You don't have to be sorry."

I look up at him. In the darkness, I can just make out his light brown eyes. He's staring down at me, trying his hardest not to show how worried he is. I push myself up into a sitting position, but our bodies are still touching anywhere possible.

He reaches up and strokes my cheek with his hand. It's then I notice as his fingers brush across my cheek, the thin layer of sweat that coats my body. "Derek," he grimaces slightly when I don't use his alias' name: Darin. But I refuse to call him that in closed quarters, and I never allow him to call me by anything except Emily when we are alone. I don't want us to be anyone else besides ourselves. "do you ever think about...about the kiss?"

I don't have to be specific about what kiss I'm talking about. Since the first day I woke up after the attack, we've never mentioned it, and it's never been repeated. Though we sleep in the same bed, and are never more than a foot away from each other.

"Emily..." I can't read his voice. Is he sympathetic? Confused? Hurt? Resentful?

"I just...when this is all over...if it ever is over...I don't want to be thrown back into darkness. If you're not always going to be there-" just the thought of Derek not next to me when the nightmares are too much is enough to take my breath away and cause my fingers to wrap tightly around his shirt, forcing him to stay with me.

His hand rests on my cheek. "I will always be here with you. I won't leave you." I believe him. If he's proven anything over the last three months it's that, but sometimes just having him next to me isn't enough. I want the same arms that wrap me up when I'm paralyzed in terror to pull me into them just because. I don't want Jacob to rule our relationship.

"Then why didn't you kiss me back?" The old hurt and embarrassment still runs deep. I'm grateful for the darkness that hides my blushing cheeks.

He sighs heavily. "Is that what you really want?"

His question surprises me. "Of course."

The next second, his hand is pulling me down, and our lips meet. I'm not caught off guard by the softness of his lips this time. My hands are so familiar with his body. They run across his chest, his arms, his torso. I can feel his hands too: one cradling my cheek while the other gently caresses my lower back.

My tongue begs for entrance to his mouth, and he willingly gives in. The taste of his mouth is intoxicating. A small moan escapes my lips. I'm pleased when I feel him pressing my body harder against his.

Lauren tries to throw memories of Ian on me. Of us, kissing in his vehicle after Liam hinted at my execution. Of our first night in bed together. Of any of the many secret kisses we shared. But they are nothing compared to what I feel now.

Lauren loved Ian. And I love Derek.

I know I could go kissing him on forever, but all too soon he pulls me back. I open my eyes and sigh. In the dim light, the pain on his face is barely discernible. He tries to hide it before I can see it, but it's too late. My heart snaps. I jump from the bed before he can react and sprint to the nearest door.

It's the master bath. I slam the door and lock it behind me. The sobs are already racking my body as I slide down the door. "Emily," he says on the other side.

"Go away!" I shout, letting the stabbing hurt control me.

"You don't understand-"

I understand completely. Derek doesn't love me. I was stupid to have brought it up. Stupid to think that there could ever be anything more between us. Derek, who is such a good person that he crawls in bed with me each night just to keep the monsters at bay. Derek, who gave up his life, his family, to protect me. Derek, who I depend on more than air, will never be mine.

I hear him slide against the door to the ground on the other side. "Emily..."

I pull my knees up to my chest and curl up into a ball. I bury my face in my knees trying to shut out the world. I feel exhaustion on a whole new level. I wish that Derek were in here right now so I could draw comfort from his heart beat, but that only makes me hurt worse. Slowly, I drift off into someplace half way between sleep and wakefulness.

I think I hear Derek say something about not wanting to be like him, but it might have just been a dream.

* * *

Caught in the weird dream state, Lauren and I exchange memories. Some of them are good, most hurt.

Right now, she is reliving one of the moments that haunts me the most. It was the moment I realized that she existed, that she was as much a part of this body as I was.

_Ian pulled away, leaving me breathless. "I was going to get you the ring," he begins searching through one of his pockets and pulls out a long necklace. "but you said you weren't the marrying type." He finishes. _

_For several seconds all I can do is stare at the necklace and try to decipher the tornado of emotions it causes: guilt, terror, dread, elation. The last one confuses me. I shouldn't be excited. Ian Doyle is a monster. He is the cause of hundreds, maybe thousands of murders. _

_So why am I not revolted at the thought of spending the rest of my life with him? It's an impossibility. Soon, very soon, if my intelligence is correct, they will come for me then they will come for him. _

_But I take the necklace from him anyway. I tell myself it's to keep up appearances, but in truth I want to hold it. "It...it's beautiful."_

_I stare at it in amazement. "Look at me," Ian says. _

_I meet his startling blue eyes. Why is it, that every time I look at them my breath catches, and I have to remind myself that those are the eyes of a killer? _

_"I am Valhalla."_

_Three words that I've waited seven months to hear, but now that they're said, I want them to disappear. They incriminate him. Now there is no going back. Before, I could ignore what he is because I've never seen the killer inside him. I've never even heard him raise his voice, but now, I have no choice. I can't ignore it anymore. _

_"I have no idea what kind of life we're going to have...I just know I want you in mine."_

_Bam. It's like a brick wall landed right on my lungs. All I can do is robotically wrap my arms around him and hope he doesn't see the confusion on my face. With that last sentence, he wiped everything away. It didn't matter that he was a killer. It didn't matter that our life together would be short lived. I just knew I wanted him in mine. _

"No..." I gasp, pulling away from the memory. But she thrusts me into another one.

_From my place in the bed, I can stare out the large window and watch the rain relentless beat on the glass, but the window does its job. It protects us from the elements. It holds strong. I wish I could be as sturdy as glass. I wish I could just do my job. _

_Ian stirs next to me. Unconsciously, he reaches out and drapes his arm over me. I scoot in close until he drifts back into deep sleep, his breath gently washing over my neck. "Lauren..." he murmurs. _

_I grip his hand and turn to face him. I press my lips against his until I feel his face come to life, and he starts to kiss me back. His hand keeps my face against his until I have to pull away for air. "Hello, love, can't sleep because of the storm?"_

_I nod as I feel tears start to rim my eyes. I hope he believes they are genuinely caused by the rain. As if the weather is on my side, there's a bright flash of lightning then a second later, the clap of thunder. I push myself flush with Ian and wrap my arms over his shoulders. _

_He covers me in his embrace. "Love, we've faced worse storms than this together." _

_He means them as comforting, but he doesn't know that they only tear deeper holes into my heart. I feel something in the back of my mind tugging at me, reminding me that he is a monster, a killer, but I can't bring myself to care anymore. I can feel the cool metal of the necklace he gave me pressed between the heat of our two bodies._

"Stop it!" I screech pulling both of us out of the memories. "I know!" I hiss. "I know you loved him!"

_You loved him, too. You're just to proud to admit it._

I don't have time to respond because someone else's voice sounds from the other side of the door. "Emily, are you okay?"

Derek. I swallow hard. "I'm fine," but the words come out as more of a croak.

"It's almost six thirty. Today's the first day of our new jobs." He replies. There's almost no emotion in his voice. Has he already put what happened last night behind him? I try not to think about it as I hoist myself to my feet. Lauren is pleased enough with herself that she willingly takes her place in the back of my mind.

I'd almost be willing to stay in this bathroom forever, but I'm already craving Derek's touch again.

"Should I tell them you're not coming?"

"No," I snap a little too harshly. "I'll be ready."

He doesn't respond. I hear his footsteps growing fainter as he walks away. I wait another minute, until I'm sure he's not coming back, to open the door. I poke my head to make sure he's not in there before I step out.

I'm so exhausted I just want to fall on the bed and rest for once, but I know if I close my eyes there will only be more nightmares. I try to be enthusiastic about today. To be honest, I'd totally forgotten about it. Darin and Kayla Brewster, our aliases, both start their new jobs today as school teachers.

* * *

"It's hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head."

-Sally Kempton-


	18. Discoveries

**I think I have the worst writer's block of my life right now, and I'm sure this chapter shows it. I added a little something at the end to hopefully liven it up. I NEED YOUR SUGGESTIONS. Anything you hope will happen, anything you just desperately want to see, or just pitch me some ideas. Seriously, I'm struggling! I really want this romance to work out, but I'm horrible at it!**

* * *

I search the closet until I find a pair of black dress pants and a light tan long-sleeved shirt. I run my fingers through my hair and instantly know it's going to take a miracle for it to look in any way presentable today.

I sigh and go back into the bathroom, cracking the door behind me so that Derek knows I'm getting ready but that I don't want to be disturbed. I brush my teeth then start in on the job of untangling my hair.

Twenty minutes later, my hair is straightened and hairsprayed into submission. I finally allow myself to study my face. I'll be the first to admit I look like hell. Getting at most two hours of sleep, if tossing and turning until I'm jolted awake by nightmares counts as sleep, has caused dark bags to appear under my eyes. My cheeks are hollow, more defined than I would like, and they give me a haunted look. I could probably cover that up with some blush though.

It's the scar that makes me cringe every time I look at it. A long, thin scar running from my right temple almost to my lips from where Jacob sliced the branding iron across my cheek. I wince as I remember the blinding pain that somehow Lauren had been able to fight through enough to grab the iron from him and stab it into his thigh.

_It's because I'm stronger than you. I wouldn't have been captured in the first place,_ she mocks.

"Yeah, well, you got us shot." I retort, happy when she can't come up with anything else to say.

I apply my makeup, doing my best to hide the signs of exhaustion, then look at my wristwatch. It's almost seven thirty. I sigh and leave the bathroom behind me. I'm almost downstairs when I hear the two voices talking in hushes tones.

I round the corner of the kitchen. Derek and another man are bent over several pieces of paper. I recognize the man easily. It's Calvin, or Nicholas now I guess. The same one who helped rescue us all from the barn. I smile at him, and he holds out his arms eagerly. I fold into his welcome embrace. Over the last three months, Calvin has been my only other constant human contact besides Derek.

"Hey, Em, how's my most favorite super spy doing?" He grins down at me. "You ready to whip those teenagers into submission?"

I roll my eyes. "You know you're going to get us in trouble if you keep flaunting our identities." But I grin up at him. I think I like him so much because he's like me. He refuses to play into these fantasy lives the FBI set up for us.

He shrugs his shoulders and leans to whisper in my ear. "There's not much else they can do to me." I do my best to keep the pang of guilt and sadness from showing on my face. Calvin lost almost his entire team during the rescue attempt, only one survived. It's part of his therapy that he doesn't filter what he thinks. But I don't mind. Usually his thoughts run right along with mine.

He leans back and chuckles as if he told me some dirty joke then releases his hold on me. "I'll see you when you get off work, and we can continue to discuss..." he motions at the papers lying on the island.

He plants a firm kiss on my cheek then walks out of the kitchen. I shake my head as Derek gathers up the papers. He doesn't ask me if I want to look at them. I already know what they are. They're the latest intel on Jacob's whereabouts. I've separated myself as much as possible from the investigation.

It's just too hard to wonder where he could be because every time, I imagine him right outside our front door or breaking into one our teammate's new houses. It's enough to send me into a panic attack, and Derek quickly learned to not ask me any unnecessary questions about where I thought he would go to hide. I'd already given them all the information I could think of weeks ago, so Derek rarely ever asks for my input anymore.

"Are you ready?" I ask. Being alone with him has only reminded me of the line in our relationship I crossed last night.

He nods tucking the papers into a black backpack. His dressed in khaki pants with a navy blue v-neck that clings tightly to his form. Without provocation, he reaches out and takes my hand in his. In the last few months, this isn't unusual. Actually, there are very rarely moments when we aren't touching, but I thought those days were behind us now. It's such a relief to know that he is still standing beside me.

"I am now," he smiles at me. Butterflies flutter in my stomach and it takes every bit of self-control to not lean forward and kiss him.

* * *

I pause in the doorway of my new classroom. The walls are bare and the shelves are empty because I was one of the few, probably the only, teacher who didn't bother to come in early and decorate. My desk is almost empty except for a large planner embedded into the face of the desk. There's a computer there as well and several books.

My arms of full of lesson plans, worksheets, and everything else that should have been sorted out last week. I groan loudly and flop the huge pile of papers onto my desk. It almost reminds me of being at the BAU. I check the wall clock, and it says I still have twenty minutes before the first student will arrive. Good it will give me time to think about what the heck I'm going to do today.

There's a light knock on the door, and I turn around to see a blonde woman who looks to be about my age standing there. She's dressed in a bright pink and orange flowered dress that instantly makes me think of Penelope. "Hi," she grins, "I'm Rachael Stockton. I, uh, teach 10th grade literature in the class right next to you. You're the new French teacher right?"

I nod and hold out my hand to her. "Kayla Brewster," I smile.

"Nice to meet you. We didn't know if you were going to show up. Honestly, I wouldn't have blamed you." She whispers mischievously.

I chuckle even though she's reminding me so much of Penelope it hurts. Then I try to imagine Penelope teaching anyone anything about literature, and my laugh isn't fake anymore. "Yeah, I had some...business to take care of first."

She nods, thankfully not pushing the subject as to why I hadn't made an appearance before today. Rachael glances around the room and scruffs up her nose. "You and I have some serious remodeling to do."

"I was going for the prison look, actually."

She busts out laughing and I catch myself actually smiling back at her. "Funny!" She says. "I already like you more than the last French teacher. He smelled _awful_. I mean, horrendous." She crinkles up her nose as if remembering the smell. "I'm surprised it didn't yellow the walls."

I cover my mouth to hide the grin. "That's awful," I murmur through my fingers.

Rachael points her finger at me. "Hey, you didn't have to teach next to it for eight years."

"All right, all right," I concede.

"Anyway, I thought I'd just drop by to make sure you weren't a complete freak."

"Did I pass?" I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders. "I'll let you know at lunch. Good luck!" She waves as she leaves just as suddenly as she appeared.

I shake my head and take a seat at my desk. I still had fifteen minutes before class started, and if there was one thing I hated, it was down time. It left too much time open for thought, and my thoughts seemed to always find their way back to that night. Lauren had been quiet so far this morning since she forced her memories on me, so I was almost completely alone in my head.

I concentrated on getting the massive amount of papers sorted until I heard the first bell ring, and a few minute later, the first group of students arrived.

* * *

JACOB DOYLE'S POV

I flick the cigarette outside the car window and watch as numerous people walk in and out of the hospital at Bethesda. I tap my fingers impatiently against the steering wheel now that my hands and mind don't have anything to occupy them.

A few minutes later, just when I was beginning to contemplate lighting another cigarette, a familiar face walks out of the hospital and crosses the street to the car. I relax as he takes his place in the passenger door, but neither of us say anything until we're clear of the hospital.

"Is he in there?" I inquire without looking at him.

"Yeah, he's in some kind of coma, I guess. I couldn't get a good look at him. There were guards posted at his door. I only seen him cause some blonde nurse walked out when I was passin' by."

I smile and almost can't stop the laugh. "I've found you, Emily." It's only a matter of time before dear Agent Reid wakes from his coma, no doubt caused by the bullet I implanted in his chest, and Emily won't be able to resist coming to see him. All I have to do is wait.

I run my fingers over the rough line of skin over the bridge of my nose where her nails dug into my skin. "You say blonde nurse?" I ask.

"Yeah, real pretty." My partner replies. "Why?"

This time, I have to laugh. In all my years, I've never been this lucky. "They're all fools." I grin, pressing my foot harder against the pedal of the car. "They won't escape this time. We're going to play by my rules." Plans are already forming in my head. By the time we've pulled into the run down motel we're staying in, I know how I'm going to lure Emily back to me, and I might not even have to wait for that young bastard to wake up.

* * *

**I couldn't find any quotes to go with this, so...just send in your suggestions about what you want to see. PM me or review. :)**


	19. Deep-burning and Unquenchable

**This one is another shorter chapter, but I think you'll like it. Or rather, I hope you like it. I feel an action scene on the horizon...but who knows? I may play out this whole 'love' thing a little bit longer. :P **

* * *

_"Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who let's you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at that moment is fine with him. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is."_

_-Jim Morrison-_

* * *

"How was your first day?" Derek grins at me as I approach our car.

He grabs my hand as soon as I'm close enough and pulls me into a tight embrace. I sigh, feeling the tension built up over hours of not being able to touch him instantly vanish. "Better now," I say relishing in having him so close.

I hear him chuckle in my ear, but its forced. He sighs and leans back enough to look at me. To anyone watching, we look like the perfect couple, but I can see his eyes. They're reluctant, worried. "I was think we could go out to eat, maybe hit that coffee shop that Nicholas has been raving about the last three weeks."

"Sounds good." But all I really want to do is go back to the house. I'm so exhausted that I might be able to get a few hours of sleep before the dark brings the nightmares.

"Bye, Coach Brewster!" A young, feminine voice shouts from somewhere behind us. Derek turns me around and wraps his arm around my waist.

I spot a group of three teenaged girls at the end of the parking lot. I recognize one of them from my French class. Derek waves at them. "Bye, girls." He yells back.

The three girls giggle excitedly and walk away.

I smirk at Derek and get into the car. "What?" I hear him say behind me.

I laugh, but wait for him to get into the driver seat before I say anything. "Bye, Coach Brewster," I mimic in an overly dramatic feminine tone.

Derek rolls his eyes. "Oh, c'mon. They're students."

"Yeah," I smile, "and you're the sexy new PE teacher, and they hate me because they think I'm your wife." I'm treading on a dangerously slippery slope. This conversation is too close to breeching the subject of what happened last night.

Derek only shakes his head. "You're reaching."

"And you're in denial."

He chuckles. "The coffee shop is just up the road."

"Nice way of changing the subject," but I'm grateful for it. There's little more conversation before we're pulling into a small parking lot with only one or two other cars in it. "I can see why Calvin likes it so much. No one comes here."

"Yeah, well he swears they have the best coffee in town."

Once inside, we take one of the many open booths and order two black coffees. Derek orders us both a blueberry muffin then the waitress leaves. The coffee house is small and decorated in a stereotypical small town fashion. Derek, myself, and three other people are the only customers.

"So, really, what did you think about today? Did you like it?" Derek asks.

I shrug. "More than I thought I would." I omit the part where one of the more...unmotivated boys in my fifth hour coined me the nickname 'scarface'. "The teacher next to me, Stockton, seems pretty nice. Reminds me of a Southern Garcia-" I choke on the last word and instantly drop my eyes. "What about you?"

He groans loudly forcing me to look up at him to see what was wrong. "Those kids! Most of them couldn't run half a lap around a basketball court before getting out of breath. Then I had them _play_ basketball..." he shakes his head in disgust.

I have to laugh at him. "You're not training agents anymore."

His head snaps to either side instantly to make sure no one heard my remark.

"Relax, no one can hear us. I think that's why Calvin suggested it in the first place."

He grimaces at my second use of our friend's real name. "We can't be too safe," he says sourly.

I'm trying to come up with a retort when our waitress comes back toting a tray with our coffees and muffins. "Anythin' else I can get you?" She asks Derek, never looking at me.

"No, ma'am, thank you." He smiles.

"Just holler if you need anythin'." Her eyes linger on Derek just a second longer than necessary before she walks away.

"You okay?" He asks staring at the table in front of me.

I look down at my hand which has the remnants of what used to be my blueberry muffin reduced to little more than mush between my fingers. I wipe my hand off on my pants. "Fine," I hiss at him angrily.

"Ouch." Derek winces. "What's the matter?"

I feel like snapping at him, but I force myself to check my tone before I even start talking. "Did you not see the way she looked at you?"

"Who? Our waitress. C'mon, Em - Kayla." His eyes widen when he sees that I'm not letting this go. I'm aware that at this moment in time I have no right to him, but _she_ didn't know that. Those stupid hormonal girls didn't know that, and here they were flaunting themselves at my husband right in front of me.

"You want me to call her back and tell her I'm taken?" There's a slight hint of accusation in his tone that for some reason infuriates me even more.

"Or you could tell her you're not. I could go sit out in the car while you two get acquainted, _Darin._" I put as much acid in the name as I can. Some part of me knows I'm being irrational, but I can't bring myself to care.

There must have been something in my tone besides spite because his eyes instantly fade from defensive to guilty. I sigh, suddenly deflated. I run my fingers through my hair. "I'm sorry," I murmur.

Derek reaches across the table and offers me his hands. I take them without a second thought. His palms are rough and calloused from the carpentry work he'd been doing over the last few months to keep busy when he wasn't hunting for Jacob.

"For everything," I continue. "For the hospital..." my cheeks get warmer, and there's nothing to hide my blush this time, "for last night."

His eyes soften, but I can't read what he's thinking at all. I grip his hands tighter as seconds pass without him saying anything. "Well, say something," I chuckle, but it comes out sounding more like a hiccup.

Now, he can't hide his confusion, which in turn, confuses me. "Emily," my mouth twitches up when he says my name. He hesitates another second. I can see the internal debate taking place just out of my reach. I'm terrified of his next words, but perhaps I shouldn't be. At least, now I'll know what is holding him back. "if I..." he sighs, "if I did this, I would be no different than him."

"Who?" I implore, tightening my fingers around his again.

"Ian," the word slides off his tongue, and he makes a disgusted face, as if simply saying Ian's name somehow hurt him.

Lauren had retreated back into my mind, bored with the day's events, until now. Now, she was there in the forefront, screaming, yelling obscenities, attacking my will.

_Do not say his name! _She shouts at Derek. Rage and hatred rolling in waves on my consciousness. _You killed him!_ _You're the reason he's dead you son of bitch!_

Her attack is so sudden, I have to take several precious seconds to make sure my control is still intact. Then I finally let Derek's response settle in. He doesn't want to be Ian? I don't understand. Perhaps he sees the confusion on my face because he continues.

"I came to terms with the fact that you and him had a relationship a long time ago," but he still grimaces, and I do, too, though probably not for the same reason. Lauren is raving inside my head with every word.

_Shut up! _I hiss at her, slamming a wall between us so hard that she's stunned into submission. At least for now.

"I even..." he huffs, "I even tried to understand it. Then I thought about you being thrown into his hands like a piece of meat..." His voice raises in anger and disgust. His hands grip mine like at any second I could be taken away, but it's the look of pure hatred in his eyes that prompts me to rise from my seat across from him, without ever letting go of his hands, and settle in next to him.

Derek visibly relaxes, but his death grip on my hands never relinquishes. "You had no choice, and Doyle took advantage of that. I don't care if he knew it or not, he took advantage of you, Emily." Now, for the first time since I moved next to him, he looks me in the eyes. "I could never do that to you."

"Derek," How do I begin to explain these things to him? That Ian's hold on my life is still strong. That there are some moments when I don't know who I am anymore. That every time I close my eyes there is another nightmare waiting for me. And yet, the terror of all those things is nothing compared to the terror that overwhelms me when I think about waking up without him next to me. "You never will." Is all I can say, but I can see it in his eyes he isn't convinced.

"You think you owe me..."

"No," I gasp, pressing my body against his until our faces are only inches apart. "Derek, no...please, don't think that."

I can see him studying me now, testing my words and my expression, wanting so badly to believe what I'm saying and yet unable to convince himself that it's true.

"Please," I beg this time more vehemently, not caring who is watching. "I love you, Derek Morgan. Me. To hell with anything else."

Then for the first time, I know what it feel like for Derek to truly kiss me.

* * *

We barely make it through the front door before his lips find mine again. I throw myself against him. Everywhere his skin touches mine a small fire ignites and burns passionately. Every one of his kisses only leaves me wanting more. "Derek," I gasp quietly.

His hands lift me up, and I wrap my legs eagerly around his body. I don't know how he manages it, but what feels like seconds later, we're upstairs in our bedroom. He lowers me to the bed, keeping his body pressed against mine. One of his hands roams through my hair while the other caresses my lower back.

"I love you, Emily." He murmurs. The feeling of his breath on my neck sends pleasurable shivers across my skin and down my back. His hands move to lift my shirt over my head, and I lose myself in loving him.

* * *

_"Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning, like a flame very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows old, our hearts become mature, and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable."_

_-Bruce Lee-_

* * *

**So, tell me what you think and what you want to see from here! And who knew Bruce Lee was such a sentimental dude?**


	20. Hunted

"But I have a promise to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep."

-Robert Frost-

* * *

I wake up to the feeling of his lips against mine. I sigh in contentment even before I'm fully aware. His lips disappear, and I open my eyes to find him hovering over me. "No nightmares," he grins.

It takes me a second to understand what he means. "Really?" I gasp, reaching up with one of my hands until he intertwines it with his own. The leaden feeling I've been carrying in my limbs is gone, and my head is clear. I can still feel Lauren like a black spot on a radar, but she is doing her best to stay away from me. Well, that suits me just fine. "I almost forgot what it was like to be happy," I confess.

I sit up, using my freehand to pull the covers up with me.

Derek smiles at me, and I wish that this moment would never end. Cliché as it was, this was perfect. Except for the looming threat hanging over us and everyone we care about, but I sigh and save that for another time. Right now all I want to do is enjoy this.

"Here," he says letting go of my hand and reaching behind him. He reveals a large tray with short legs. There's two plates of bacon, pancakes, eggs, and two glasses filled to the brim with milk. "Nothing blueberry," he chuckles.

I laugh nervously and stare at the food. My stomach pitches and growls greedily as the smell suddenly bombards my nose. I realize that I didn't eat anything yesterday, and that only makes my stomach gurgle louder. "It looks wonderful." I smile.

"Dig in."

It's only after I've gorged myself on three pancakes, four slices of bacon, and two eggs that lean back and sigh. "That was delicious." I groan in pleasure.

Derek laughs at me. "I'm glad to see you have your appetite back. I thought for a second you were going to wither away on me." He moves the tray off the bed then shuffles until he's sitting right next to me. He drapes one of his arms over my shoulders, and I lay my head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat has almost lulled me to sleep when I start and nearly jump off the bed.

"School! Teaching!" I can barely articulate my words. "Late!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Derek grabs both my shoulders, keeping me in place. "Emily, look at the time!"

I'm confused, but I do as he says. The alarm clock by the bed says five AM. "Oh," I exhale suddenly aware of how stupid I must look. "Well, that's embarrassing."

He throws his head back in laughter and pulls me into his arms so fast I don't have time to fight it. Not that I would anyway. "I think it's cute."

I smirk and pull away from enough that I can look at him. "And I think maybe we can call in sick today." I grin mischievously.

His eyebrows raise in genuine surprise. "I'd like that."

I bite my lip nervously. I feel like he can hear my heart beating rapidly in my chest. The weight of everything that we've been through together, with everything we've seen and done to protect one another suddenly pulls me down. I knew the happiness could only last so long, but I thought I would have more time before the darkness returned.

I guess he can see it in my eyes because his expression becomes soft. "Tell me when this all started for you," his tone is pleading, but it's something to distract me from the memories overwhelming me.

I cling to him tight as I try to remember the exact moment I realized I couldn't live without him. "When you found me...in the warehouse." It's hard to talk and fight down the panic that has started to seep into my voice.

He draws me in closer, pressing our bodies together until he's completely enveloped me. "I knew that if I survived, you would have to be there with me, or...or it wouldn't be worth it," I continue. I can feel myself shaking against him. Images of him being lined up with the others...Jacob holding a gun to his head...

I cling to him, digging my nails into his back to assure myself that he's real, that's he's safe here with me, but he isn't safe. Jacob is still our there. "Jacob..." I whisper in terror.

"For me," he says quickly. I can feel the vibration of his voice in his chest, and it keeps my grounded in reality. "it was when JJ came into the waiting room after it happened. The realization that I was never going to get to see you again...I was never going to get to tell you how much you meant to me...I knew that I would never be truly happy again. My only reason for living was hunting down the monster who did that to you..."

I swallow hard. "Keep talking."

"I love you, Emily Prentiss. You are safe. No one is going to ever hurt you again. I promise. I'm going to keep you safe. This is real. My arms around you," he tightens his grip as if to assure me more, "is real. I'm here, Emily. I'm here."

I tremble for several minutes even after the panic attack is over, and I don't dare let go of him. He's rocking me gently, still whispering encouragement. I simply tilt my head up to look at him. He smiles down at me. "Hey, Princess."

I start to say something, but then I realize my throat has gone dry. I lick my dry tongue across the roof of my mouth. "Thank you," I croak.

"Always." He returns, still rocking me slowly. I don't know when I fell asleep, but I wake up to the sound of a telephone ringing.

* * *

DEREK'S POV

I try to quickly grab the phone before it can wake Emily up, but after only the first ring her eyes bolt open. I silently curse whoever's calling me and have already planned on giving them a piece of my mind when I answer the phone and hear Hotch's voice. "Darin, why are you not at work today?"

I sigh. Of course he's keeping close tabs on all of us. "We just needed a...break." I say.

"After the first day? Those Missouri kids must have given you a beating," but his voice which had been tensed and worried before was now relaxed. Well, as relaxed as Hotch's voice could get.

Emily sits up and looks questioningly at me. I mouth 'Hotch'. She sits up more, and I can see it in her eyes she's already playing out the worst case scenario. "No, it's okay. He was just checking up on us when we didn't show up at the office today." I grin. Emily visibly relaxes, but doesn't take her eyes off me.

"What?" Hotch asks on the other side of the phone.

"I was just telling Kayla that you were worried about us. That's all."

"Listen closely. I need you to get out of the room and go somewhere where she can't hear you."

I force my expression to remain even, almost annoyed, despite the sudden dread that shriveled my stomach and tightened my throat. "Okay, man, yeah, I understand. No, I know we pulled some strings to get us here." I roll my eyes and smirk at the phone.

Emily chuckles and gestures for the phone. "Let me talk to him."

I shake my head while pushing myself up from the bed. "I know, I know, it was very undisciplined." I continue even though the other side has remained quiet. "Tom, look," I revert to using his alias, "it won't happen again." I'm out of the bedroom now and halfway down the stairs, but I wait until I'm safely in the kitchen, pausing several seconds as I listen for sounds of her following me, before I drop the act.

"What the hell's going on?" I hiss.

"You're alone?" Hotch questions.

"For now," I say. "What is going on?" I can't stop the anger from entering my voice. I know without having to be told what this has to do with. My thoughts go up to the woman waiting for me. Is she in danger again after I just promised her that she was safe?

"I'm only telling you this so you'll be prepared it things so south."

"Tell me." I say tightly.

Hotch hesitates another second. "He was spotted at Bethesda. We think he knows about Matt." At the name, my stomach sinks even deeper. Matthew Brenton is Reid's alias.

"Are the rest of us safe?" I whisper, not taking the chance of my voice carrying upstairs.

"As far as we know, yes."

Neither of us say anything for several seconds. All that matters is Emily is safe for now. My thoughts are on Jacob. He's in Bethesda. I could end this right now. All it would take would be one taunt, and I could draw him out into the open. I could take the fight away from Emily, draw his attention away from her. I could end her nightmare.

"No," Hotch says as if reading my thoughts. "I know what you're thinking and it's absolutely out of the question. They've got every available agent and officer looking for him. If he's still there, they will find him."

"Not unless he wants them to. You know that."

"You will only be putting her in more danger. Do you think she's just going to let you hop on a plane back to Virginia? Your job is to keep her away from him. Let us handle the rest."

I swallow my hateful retort. "You haven't seen her, Hotch." I've broken a huge rule by saying his name, but I need him to understand how serious this is. "If this isn't over soon...she won't come out of it." It's been my own nightmare to watch her deteriorate right in front of my eyes without any way to stop it. Her eyes which had been so full of life before were now shadows of what they used to be, more dead than alive, always being drawn back into terror. Sometimes it was like looking at a walking corpse.

Jacob had to be killed for Emily to ever get her life back.

I can hear him sigh heavily on the other side. "He wants her to suffer. He'll come after the rest of us before he comes for her...and you."

"We'll be ready," I say grimly.

* * *

JACOB DOYLE'S POV

The room is disgusting, even for American standards. Bags and canisters of various 'junk food' lies empty around my feet. Cans of Mountain Dew are spewed everywhere amidst filthy clothes, magazines, and I'm sure the occasional rodent.

The man, or rather, boy sitting in the computer chair in front of me twirls around before answering my question. "Yeah, I can get if for you, but it'll cost yuh."

I chuckle and forcefully grip the arms of his chair to stop his insulate spinning. I put my face only inches from his and raise my right hand to reveal the blade. "I won't slit your throat. How does that sound?"

His eyes dart from the blade to my face. I laugh inwardly at the panic on his face. He swallows audibly before stuttering: "On...second thought...I'll do it for free."

I lean back, and he spins his chair around to face the six large computer screens in front of him. After several minutes of him clicking on his keyboards, I'm contemplating threatening him again until a face appears on the screen right in front of me. I grin at the familiar blonde face. "That's her," I say taking a step closer. "Give me everything."

"I-I...you know I would feel a lot better if I didn't think you were going to kill-" The boy stammers, his eyes once again landing on the knife still in my hand.

"Listen to me," I bend down and lower my voice to a whisper. I grip his grimy cheeks in my hand and force him to look at me. "you're going to give me this information, and then you're not going to tell anyone or I will personally see to it that you and your entire family die in this house. Understand?"

His eyes widen at my threat, and his head nods viciously. I take my hand from his face and wipe it against my pants. Several papers start to print, and then the boy hands them to me. "It's all there." He says.

I grin at the papers. "Good boy." I pat his head and start to walk away. "Remember," I say, just as I reach the top of the stairs that go into the rest of the house, "it's our little secret."

Once I'm out to my car, I study the seven pieces of papers in my hand. It isn't until I reach the last one that I let the smile slide across my face. There's a picture of a brunette woman with a long scar on her right cheek. "Oh, Emily..." I chuckle.

I start the car and pull out of the driveway then dial a number into my phone. "Darius, it's only a matter of time before they notice someone got into their database. Make sure when they find him, they have to pick the pieces off the ceiling. I have to pay Dr. Reid another visit."

* * *

"Hunting is not a sport. In a sport, both sides should know they're in the game."

-Paul Rodriguez-


	21. Violent Delights

"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flags, and begin to slit throats."

-H.L. Mencken-

* * *

EMILY'S POV

Whatever haze of depression and fear that has hung over me the last three months instantly vanishes. Now I have a goal, a plan. As soon as I heard Derek say it was Hotch I knew that my nightmares had come true: Jacob had decided to make his move. But I also knew Hotch and Derek's plan. It was all to evident in Derek's voice.

_You haven't seen her, Hotch. If this isn't over soon...she won't come out of it._

I'm not angry that Derek thinks that way. I've given nothing to believe the contrary, but that ends now. I bound silently back up the stairs and retrieve the two black duffel bags under the bed. I exchange the blanket I have wrapped around me for khaki pants and a white three-quarter sleeve shirt. I go into our closest and have just laced up my second boot when I hear him enter the room with a long sigh.

In the next second, he's in the doorway of the closet looking at me with an unreadable expression. "Emily, what are you doing?"

I scoff. "What does it look like I'm doing? I know you know where he is." I move passed him back into the bedroom. I start going through our go-bags making sure everything is ready. I don't hear him approach, but his hands slide gently over mine stopping my action.

I look up at him again, and this time I can see the protective glint in his eyes. But I can also read his anger. He wants to end this just as badly as I do. "Who did he find?" I don't mean for my voice to crack. There's not much Derek can do to stop me, but I need him to have confidence in me.

Derek's face hardens. "Reid," he says quietly.

I catch the scream in my throat, and it comes out as a shocked gasp. "He didn't hurt him, did he?"

Derek shakes his head. "No, no, Reid is still being guarded day and night. He's safe. Emily," I started checking through his bag again. "we have to stay here." His voice is flat, like he's reading from a queue card.

I ignore him and zip the bag back closed.

"Dammit, Emily! Listen to me!"

His sudden dire, panicked tone draws my eyes to meet his. His face is contorted in worry and, what? Guilt? His hands reach out and grasp my arms; his fingers latching onto the areas where Jacob's blade dug into my skin. "I'm not letting you near him. I won't let him hurt you again."

"He won't," I say reacting to the expression on his face. It's only after I say the words that I truly believe them. In my mind, every scenario I've ever played out has always ended with the death of the people I care about and then myself. Now, I see me standing over Jacob's empty body. Lauren has decided to take an interest in me again, and while she still hates me, I think she's grown to hate Jacob more. Or perhaps she just hasn't figured out how to kill me yet.

"Derek," I take hold of his wrists, "this nightmare has to end. If Jacob has found Reid..." I choke again on the words and have to pause to collect myself before I can continue. "then it's only a matter of time before he finds the rest of us. You know that. You know he'll take them out one my one until we're the only ones left." I'm surprised at how even I can keep my voice when talking about the deaths of my family, but I've imagined it so many times in my head saying it aloud feels almost like a natural extension. "until we're all that's left.

"He wants me to suffer," at that, he scowls, but I continue, "we have to end this. You said it yourself. We will kill him...together." I say the lie without difficulty. I have no intention of Derek being there when I face Jacob. Without variance, these monsters will make it as personal as possible. I know how to find Jacob, and as the plan begins to take form in my head, I realize I always have.

Derek's hand reaches up and brushes against my right cheek, his flesh leaving a trail of fire over my scarred skin. I'm scared he's going to argue, but after his fingers have traced my cheek several times, he gives a small nod.

I can see it in his eyes that his thoughts have run perfectly in line with mine. He has already thought of a way to get to Jacob without me. We're both trying to save the other, but I know that I will win. I have to.

* * *

It was almost ten o'clock in the morning, but our street was empty. We lived at the end of a cul desac, so there was no traffic, wouldn't be for hours until many of the owners came home for lunch. The Missouri humidity clung to our skin, leaving us coated in a thin layer of sweat after only seconds of exposure. We crossed the circle into the driveway of another house whose car rarely left its spot in the garage.

Derek knocked on the door, and almost instantly Calvin answered with a large black duffel bag hung over his shoulders. "It's about freaking time," he grinned hauntedly. "Where's the rat bastard?"

I smirk at him, and Derek chuckles darkly. "Bethesda. He was spotted at the hospital."

Calvin nods. "Does your team know?" He shuts the door behind him and we make our way back to our driveway where our car is waiting.

"They know about Doyle, but..." I answer letting my voice trail off.

"Ah, breakin' the rules," but he leaves it at that. He throws his bag into the trunk and slams it shut. I slide into the backseat before Calvin can. I'm going to need to fine tune my plan before we reach the airport at St. Louis in a couple of hours, and I don't want Derek to be able to read my expression.

Calvin doesn't say anything and takes the passenger seat while Derek takes the driver seat. "I can't say I'm going to be sad to say good-bye. The place never really felt like home, you know?"

"Yeah," I murmur and nod. I know exactly what he means. As I watch our house fade from the back window, I feel no attachment to the place where Derek and I lived for three months. In fact, I feel lighter when it disappears for the first time, as if the house had been weighing on my shoulders. There are good memories there, like last night, but mostly it is a place of nightmares. In many ways it was a prison. I know that one way or another, the nightmare is almost over. I thought when I had to face Jacob again, I would be terrified, but I only feel relieved that it will finally be over.

Derek begins to fill Calvin in on what's going on, but I quickly tune them out and start to formulate the details of my own plan. I will have to deceive Derek for as long as I can once we land in Virginia. While he may have guessed that I wouldn't want him to be with me when I face Jacob, I can't give him reason to believe I have a working plan. No doubt he will be keenly watching me for any sign that I'm going to run.

* * *

We've just landed in D.C. and are waiting for our bags to come through when the televisions placed around the terminal flash red. Derek is off somewhere talking with Garcia. I didn't want to involve her, the less people that knew what we were doing the better, but Derek made the point that Hotch probably already knew what had happened and had Garcia following our paper trails anyway. Calvin had already found his bag and was probably smoking somewhere close by.

I continue waiting for my bags until I hear the news story. I quickly snap my head and push my way through the growing crowds under the television until I'm standing right in front of it.

A blond news anchor's face is pallid. Her shoulders are tense, and even through the screen you can see she's holding the papers a little too tight. "This morning at 9:07 AM the bodies of Stan Goldstein, 56, Mary Goldstein, 55, Brian Goldstein, 24, and T-trisha Goldstein, 12, were found in their homes brutally murdered." Four faces flash on the screen then the anchor woman's face reappears.

"Stan and Mary were found in their bedroom each with multiple stab and gunshot wounds. Brian was in the basement which served as his bedroom-" her ashen face drains of color again. A familiar hand slides into mine and I don't have to look around to know it's Derek. She collects herself, straightening the papers in her hands. "The earliest reports say he was stabbed over fifty times then hung post mortem with wires from one of his computers. Trisha was fataly shot once in the chest."

Then the screen goes back to a talk show. The people around us start to disperse. Some shaking their heads at the 'crazy people', and some are already demanding the heads of those responsible. "It's him, isn't it, Baby Girl?"

I finally acknowledge Derek next to me. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are still staring angrily at the screen. He's holding his phone to his ear. I can just barely hear Penelope's shrill voice over the speaker. "We think so," she says. It's such a relief to hear her. "Brian hacked into Homeland Security earlier that morning..."

"Garcia..." Derek's tone is serious, something that hardly ever happens when he's talking to her.

"He went directly, well, as directly as you can, to our information. If it was Doyle, he knows everything."

"He's baiting us," I say.

"Is that Emily?" Penelope's voice raises several octaves. "Emily, it's so good to hear you say something. I wanted to call every day, but-" Derek presses a button on his phone, and her voice instantly stops.

"You didn't have to hang up on her."

Derek finally takes his eyes off the television screen and looks at me. "We need to find our things, get Calvin, and figure out what our next move is. Hotch and Rossi are on their way here."

I scowl. "I didn't want to involve them."

Lauren purposefully draws images of their faces mutilated and lifeless to our mind, but I've learned to maneuver around her attacks. I picture them as they were the first day I met each of them, and her horrific images fade.

He sighs and takes both his hands in mine. I'm surprised by the intensity in his eyes. "Emily, listen to me, Hotch and Rossi are on their way, and JJ and Garcia have been in D.C. this whole time."

_Lining up like lambs to the slaughter..._Lauren laughs.

I shake my head. _Not if I can help it. _

I can tell Derek is measuring my reaction to this news. I put on a look of anger and worry. "We can do this by ourselves. Why are you willing to put them in danger?" I growl. Derek's face contorts in his own anger.

"What?" He hisses. "Emily, what are you-"

I thrust my hands from his and stalk away. "I'm going to the bathroom," I yell behind me, "don't follow me." I don't know if he's listened to me or not, but he doesn't try to stop me. The bathroom wasn't too far, and as I swing the door open, I peak over my back.

Derek's nowhere to be seen.

I close the door and walk in the opposite direction I just came from, away from Derek. It would be nice to have my go-bag, but there was enough cash in my pockets to get me what and where I needed. I call for a Taxi, give him the address to one of my 'associates' in D.C. and in seconds I'm gone.

It won't take them long to find out where I went and what I'm doing with me using a Taxi, but I won't need long. One way or another, this would end today.

* * *

"These violent delights will have violent ends."

-William Shakespeare-


	22. Good Intentions

"A woman must not depend on the protection of a man but must learn to protect herself."

-Susan B. Anthony-

* * *

DEREK'S POV

I start to chase after her, but a strong hand holds me back. I whip around, prepared to fight off whoever had a grip on me until I see Calvin with a dark expression on his face.

"Let her go. It's better she do this here than we're staring the bastard down. It's just somethin' she's gotta do."

I shake my arm free, but I don't make a move to follow her despite the panic in the pit of my stomach at having Emily out of my site. Emily and Calvin have an understanding of each other that supersedes me. Calvin lost everyone he cared about to Jacob, and Emily is afraid of that very same thing.

Emily turns around the corner and I lose sight of her completely. I give her a minute and a half before I go looking for her and slump into a seat, not taking my eyes off the spot where she disappeared. "I'll go look for your bags." Calvin says.

After I've counted to seventy-three, I've ignored the panic for as long as I can. I stand to my feet and go in search of her. The bathroom isn't hard to find. It's actually just right around the corner from where I was sitting. I wait another thirty seconds before stopping a woman who was coming out. After convincing her that I didn't mean her any harm, I giver her Emily's description and ask if she saw her in there.

The woman shakes her head, and my panic turns to dread. "Dammit!" I yell startling the woman. I take out my phone and dial Garcia's number. After two rings she answers. I can barely speak through my rage. "She's gone. Find her. Get into these cameras and figure out where she went. Now."

* * *

EMILY'S POV

The Taxi stops in front of a duplex in one of the seedier parts of D.C. I tell him to keep the meter running. I won't be long.

My legs feel like rubber, and my mind is working robotically. I'm doing everything I can to keep myself from thinking about what I'm doing. _This is for them. For them._ I have to repeat to myself to keep calm.

My hand shakes as I reach up to knock on the door. I take the few seconds between my knock and the door opening to collect myself. I have to perfect. One mistake, and this would all be for nothing. I would die, and my family wouldn't be spared.

A pale, skinny middle-aged man opens the door. At the sight of me, his eyes narrow greedily. Good, he remembers me. I was one of his best customers during my espionage years. Lauren's presence in my mind has gotten surprisingly stronger since leaving the air port, but I do little to stop her. I'm going to need her to get out of this alive.

Slowly I morph from Emily Prentiss to Lauren Reynolds again. Without acknowledging the man, I step past him and survey the empty apartment. "You haven't changed much," I hiss condescendingly.

"Yeah, well, toots, don't fix what ain't broke, eh? What can I do yuh for?" He closes the door and I hear several locks being put back in place behind me. I grin at his question. It's one of the reasons I enjoyed working with him so much before. He never played around, and he understood the necessity of keeping his mouth shut.

"I need your best as always, and if you try to screw me over, you'll be dead before you hit the ground." I take a seat on an old couch that looks like it was just picked up from an alley while he disappears into a curtained doorway.

Ten minutes later, I'm leaving with enough guns and ammo to take out a small militia keenly hidden under my clothes and in a black bag. I get back in the Taxi and tell him to take me to the nearest car dealership.

I don't even notice the passing of time. Lauren isn't now just another presence in my head. Every move, every decision is as much hers as it is mine. She isn't in control, but neither am I. Our minds are working as one unit, completely focused on ending the threat to our lives. I push back the memories of the last time I did this, of when I became her again to protect them...

_Ian..._ we both sigh. I know giving Lauren this much ground is dangerous. Perhaps, when it was over, if our body made it out alive, she would win. But it was a chance I was willing to take because if I didn't, my family would suffer.

* * *

DEREK'S POV

I try to keep my patience as Penelope frantically squeaks all the information she has on Emily. "She took a Taxi from the air port. I got the number, and was able to get ahold of its GPS tracker. She went to a duplex on the outside of D.C. The address-" she stops talking, and I have to use every ounce of strength to keep from yelling into the phone.

"Garcia!" I hiss venomously.

"The address is to a known weapons dealer...like the kind of guy you go to when you're supplying a gang." I can hear her voice cracking on the other side, and it's enough to deflate me.

"Or taking on an international terrorist," I grit through my teeth. A million things are running through my mind. I'm angry at her for leaving again, for running off like she could do this on her own, for thinking that somehow we would be okay with this. I'm terrified to think that I'll never see her again. I think my skull is going to split from the raw fear and anger.

I need to find her. I need to get to her right now. She is in danger. She's running right back into his hands. "Dammit!" I scream again running my hand over my head in frustration. I can't think. I can't reel my mind into focus. Every time I try, I imagine him laughing while she screams for me...he's got her... she's screaming...I have to help her!

"Derek!"

Calvin's voice draws me out of my head. I stare at him uncomprehending until I see the swelling in his left eye. I look at my knuckles and see fresh blood. "I'm sorry..." I gasp. Red still lines my vision, but it's fizzling away slowly giving me back reality.

"S'okay, just save it for Doyle, all right?" Calvin reaches up and presses his palm gently against his eye and groans. He motions to my other hand, the one that hadn't struck him, and I see I still have the cell phone clenched in my hand.

"Penelope!" I say urgently. "Where is the cab heading now?" I curse the precious seconds I wasted while I let my panic get the best of me. Every second counted. I wouldn't be late again. I wouldn't lose her this time.

"Uh..." I can hear the sound of her fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Hurry!" I order, trying my best to keep the panic from seeping into my voice again.

"I got it! They're heading north on Monroe Parkway."

"Let's go," I say to Calvin who's still nursing his eye, but all I can think about is Emily. I know what she was thinking. I saw it in her eyes the first moment she learned where Jacob was. I saw her trying desperately to think of someway to keep us all out of this because she thought she would protect us. And yet, knowing all this, I still let her out of my sight. I still let her runaway. If something happened to her, it would be my fault.

* * *

EMILY'S POV

It was nothing to convince the car salesmen to let me 'test drive' one of his cars. A quick flash of my FBI badge, a harsh tone, and a believable threat and I was on the road. My paper trail ended here. Garcia would no doubt be able to follow me to the dealership, but after that she couldn't guess where I would go. None of them could.

I didn't even know where I was going until a few hours ago. Lauren had brought to mind a distant memory from our time with Ian. It was so inconsequential, and there were so many other, more powerful, memories she preferred to throw on me, she had almost forgotten it.

_"Tell me about your childhood," I whisper against his chest. I trace the hard lines of his muscular torso with my index finger. His chest rises and falls tranquilly underneath me. It is a rare moment of peace in our dangerous lives. _

_He chuckles, sending waves of vibration over my neck and down my back. "What do you want to know?"_

_I shrug my shoulders, still tracing him with my finger. "Anything."_

_For a moment, I don't think he's going to answer me, but, as always, he gives me what I want. "Once, when I was thirteen, just before our parents divorce, they took my brother and I to America-"_

_"You have a brother?" I perk up and look at him. His startling blue eyes flicker in the moonlight shining from our bedroom window. _

_"Had...it is a long story. One for another time." The sour tone in his voice is enough to let me know that this subject isn't pleasant for him. _

_"So they took you to the States," I say falling back against his chest to continue my drawing. _

_"Yes, to the capital, Washington D.C. I don't remember much...I never much cared for history..." his voice trails off, and I can't tell if he's fallen asleep or silently reminiscing. "My brother, however, loved it. He was only eleven months younger than me, but he was a born scholar. In particular I remember this garden..._

That's when Lauren stops the memory, and no matter how hard I had beaten on her walls, she wouldn't let me see the rest of it. Until now. Until I was too far into this to call for my team. Until it was just me and her.

My hands grip the steering wheel while hers direct it. After several minutes of driving, we pull into a small parking lot. Across the street is a sign that reads 'Dogwood Forest.' A long fence surrounds a field perhaps the size of the a football field. It is dotted with trees covered in drooping white and pink flowers. I can see several benches are scattered within the man made forest.

Again everything is robotic as I enter the park and wait for him. For good or for evil, this will end today.

_"It was there we made our pact," Ian finishes. _

Lauren holds onto the memory while I do everything to banish it away. It's just after one in the afternoon. I don't know when, but I know Jacob will be drawn to this place, this place where both our fates become intertwined over three decades ago. This is where my nightmares started, so Lauren and I sit on one of the benches shrouded in shadows and wait.

* * *

"The past is our definition. We may strive with good reason to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it. But we will escape it only by adding something better to it."

-Wendell Berry-

* * *

**Okay, I'm going to be starting college this Friday, so I'm going to try really really hard to wrap this up for you guys before then. The big showdown is in the next chapter! :o As always, I TOTALLY appreciate all the praises and the critiques. You guys have made this story what it is, and I thank you for it! **


	23. Bad Deeds

I had to split this up into two chapters plus an epilogueish type thing which is still being worked on, but it will be up soon. No quotes. Long story, but I'm cramped for time in a hotel room with no wifi. I'm updating from my phone. Enjoy!

* * *

DEREK'S POV

"She didn't tell you anything about where she was headin'?" Calvin asks the car salesmen. I'm trying my hardest to pay attention, but I already know the answer. Emily's left nothing for us. This is a dead end. I turn away before he answers and flip out my cell phone. I can feel our newest arrival trailing at my heels. JJ's hand gently touches my elbow.

I want to acknowledge her, but almost immediately, Penelope's voice sounds from the other side. "Hello, my beloved, I was just going to call you. I think I found something."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "What?" I hold the phone out and put it on speaker where JJ can hear as well.

She clears her throat, "Well, I went through some...files-" I can tell by her voice that that means she's hacked into the government's, perhaps not even our government's, system. I forget the lecture I know I'm supposed to give her. Anything that gets me to Emily is legal in my mind. "The Doyle family made a trip to D.C. just before mommy and daddy called it quits."

"Where did they say?" I motion to Calvin who readily leaves the frazzled car salesmen who hasn't stopped threatening to have us all arrested since we arrived. Apparently Emily left quite an impression on him. It took us five minutes just to convince him we weren't here to take one of his cars.

"No, listen," Penelope says annoyed. "I have ten receipts from the same restaurant. The Doyle's only stayed in the States for twelve nights. They ate at this place literally every night, and I was thinking-" by now she's talking so fast it's everything I can do to keep up with her, "that maybe this place, well, Jacob might, you know, want to come back here because obviously his family has some weird attachment to it."

"Garcia!" I stop her before she has the chance to get lost in her ramblings. "What's the name of the restaurant?"

"Dogwood's Palace."

"Great. Send me the addre-"

"Already done. Go get her."

"Thanks, Baby Girl. When Hotch and Rossi land send them the address and tell them to meet us there."

"Will do, my muscular mastermind," she quips and the other end of the line goes quiet.

I look at JJ whose face is set in an indiscernible grimace. "You don't have to come," I say.

Her head snaps in my direction. Her grimace turns to a look of defiance. "Yes, I do."

* * *

EMILY'S POV

Lauren and I sit in relative silence in our mind. We're both on high alert. Our fingers keep moving to run over the gun strapped in our belt. There's a gun in each of our boots, and the black duffel bag with more guns is hidden behind us. If things went south, this would be where we made our stand. Even in the cool afternoon air, a thin layer of sweat has coated our skin. Every so often, a chill runs over our body. _  
_

_Stay calm..._Lauren orders. _You're going to give us away._

_I am calm._ I hiss back.

But I force our shoulders to relax and my hands to fall limp at our side. There aren't many other people in the park. A young couple, so lost in themselves they probably aren't even aware where they are, are sitting at the closest bench to me, but they're still our of earshot and hopefully out of my line of fire. A jogger is running the curvy pathways through the small forest, and a young mother is sitting at one of the picnic tables across the park with her two twin toddlers.

I'm in the darkest part of the park, where the trees are the thickest and the shadows most prevalent. Hopefully the darkness will hide my face enough so that I am unrecognizable. From my vantage point, I can see all three entrances to the park. If Jacob or any of his men come, I will see them, and I will kill them.

There's something calming about that last thought. For over a decade, my job was to hunt down murderers, to delve into their psyche and predict their next move. I remember asking Hotch once what separated us from them, and now I realize there's nothing between us and them except circumstance.

Thinking about Hotch was the wrong idea because now I can't get them out of my head. I wish I had been able to see them one last time. I wish I could explain myself, why I ran away from them again. When I faced Ian, I was prepared to die because my death would mean my team would be safe, but if I died now, there was no guarantee Jacob would let them live. I had to come out of this alive for their sake.

_Quit being heroic. You're doing this for yourself. That's why I'm here._

_After we kill Jacob, I will find a way to get rid of you. _I growl.

Lauren laughs, her humor sets me even more on edge and sends pins running up my spine. _We'll see, Emily. _

Motion catches our eyes, bringing us both our of our mind. My heart stops for a moment then speeds up. My hand instinctively moves to my sidearm. The man is at the entrance farthest away from me. The young mother is in between us, but I can still make out most of his features. He looks to be in his early forties, white, athletically built. It could be him.

_Shoot!_ Lauren orders with such ferocity my hand grips the gun tighter.

"There's innocent people in the way," I murmur using my voice to show her that I was still in control, "and we don't know if it's him."

_I know_, she remarks, _and what is that woman to you? She's not your 'family'. _

_We don't kill innocents. _

The man moves closer. He's dressed in long black pants and a fitted white V neck. He doesn't appear to be armed. I follow him with my eyes, pretending to be gazing at the flowers, until he's almost within firing range.

That's when I see it: two distinguishable scars running lengthwise over his nose like someone has dug their nails into his skin. Not someone. Me.

Images flash in front of my eyes. Remembered pain criss-crossed over my long healed scars. Panic erupts in my stomach and builds in my throat. My heart soars again, and it's several more seconds before I can catch my breath enough to think. I grip the stone bench for support or I might have fallen off.

_Pull the damned gun out and shoot him! _Lauren yells. My hands flex over the gun. I'm just about to pull it out when the jogger comes into my vision and runs between Jacob and I. Another moment of hesitation then I swallow hard and start to raise the gun.

Something cool is pressed against my neck. "I wouldn't do that, sweetie," a gruff voice whispers close to my ear.

I jump, and my finger nearly presses down on the trigger. A hard hand grips my arm like iron. "Drop it, sweetheart," the voice says.

I don't dare look back. I know it's one of Jacob's men. I know he has a gun to me. I know I'm going to die, and because of that my family will as well. I push back the tears as I bend over to lay the gun one the ground.

I don't take my eyes off Jacob who has now turned in my direction. The shadows that I had depended on as coverage, were now working against me. The other people here wouldn't be able to discern what was happening. Jacob could order his man to slit my throat and no one would know until they were almost on top of my body.

Jacob rises from his seat and starts towards me. "Get on your knees," the iron grip forces me to the ground.

Lauren's mind is running far ahead of mine. She's trying to come up with a plan to get us out of this while all I can think about is what he will do to my family.

_Wallowing isn't going to help them! _She snaps. _Give me control, so I can get us out of this._

I resist her as she tries to make the final jump to take over my consciousness while never letting my gaze waver from Jacob's. As he takes his place in front of us, a smile creeps across his face.

I connect that smile with pain and automatically grimace.

"Well, well, dear Emily, it seems we meet again." He eyes my firearm that's lying uselessly feet away from me. His eyes widen. "Were you going to use that?"

"I thought a nice game of Russian Roulette amongst old friends would be a nice way to catch up," I answer dryly.

He chuckles, kicking the gun into off the path. "I assure you, Emily, you're odds aren't as good as that. Did you really think it would be that easy? I thought you were smarter than that."

I don't have a response. I can barely think because Lauren is still bombarding my consciousness. I'm starting to feel dizzy, and my vision begins to blur. _You're going to get us killed! _I scream at her as she launches another assault.

_We're dead anyway. I'm not going out without a fight. You care too much about them to do what it takes. _Her onslaughts continue until I'm on my hands and knees. I momentarily forget about Jacob. If he kills me, he kills me, but I can fight Lauren.

As our consciousnesses meld together I can see her plan. "No!" I scream, terrified of what I see. It's my family, lined up in front of Jacob, but they aren't in the barn anymore. They're here, in the park. If Lauren gets control she's going to hand them over to him in exchange for our life.

"He won't let us win. You know that," I shriek. Tears have started falling from my eyes.

_It buys me enough time to think of a way out of this. And even if I don't make it out_ _I still get my revenge._

I choke back my horror. I'm so repulsed by the images in my head I barely notice that I'm being drug to my feet again. Lauren is still attacking me from all sides. I'm just a speck in the entirety of our mind, but I make a stand. I push back against her. I don't regain any ground I lost, but I'm still here. I'm still in enough control not to fight him.

I have to make Jacob kill me before Lauren hands my family over to him. It's the only chance I can give them.

When I open my eyes, Jacob's face in contorted in a look I've never seen on him before: confusion. "What are you doing?" He hisses, grabbing my cheek like you would grab a dangerous snake.

_You, bitch! _Lauren howls. _I will kill you! And then I'm going to watch and laugh as all your friends are killed, one by one. We'll save Pretty Boy for last. I want to watch the hatred in his eyes when he sees you've betrayed him.._.

I ignore her as best I can. It's hard to stay on me feet because the world is spinning. The trees are all lopsided, and Jacob is tilted at an odd angle. I have to blink several times to bring things into focus.

Whoever is behind me still has a hold on my arm, but it's not as strong as before. My psychotic episode must have made him nervous. I see my chance. My eyes land on the firearm still within my reach if I lunge for it.

Too late Jacob realizes what I'm doing. He shouts something as I slip out from under my captor's grip and shake free of his hold of me. I lunge for the gun and turn over, gun aimed right at his heart just as I hear the gunshot pound on my ears.

But the last thing I hear is Lauren's dying screams.


	24. Tragedy or Remedy

DEREK'S POV

"Have any of you seen this man?" I hold up the only recent picture Penelope could find of Jacob Doyle. Calvin, JJ, and I gathered the entire restaurant staff, including chauffeurs, anyone who could have come in contact with him, but they all shake their head.

I deflate instantly. Another dead end. "Are you sure?" I ask again. The tension and anger running just under my skin has me on edge. I'm contemplating putting my fist through one of the walls when one of the young waitresses steps forward.

She's barely five foot tall with strawberry blonde hair. She looks to be in her early twenties, maybe younger. She doesn't meet my eyes when she talks, and I have to lean in to even hear her voice.

"Excuse me, hun?" JJ says before I can speak. "What did you say?" JJ reaches out with one of her hands and lays it comfortingly on her shoulder. The girl seems to draw some strength from it because now she lifts her head, and I can see remnants of a black eye on her left side.

"I know him. I mean I saw him...I mean..." she stammers still whispering. She looks at JJ willing her to understand.

JJ nods at her, but casts a confused glance back my way. "You saw him here? How long ago? Was he with anyone? A woman perhaps?"

The girl stares at JJ for several seconds before shaking her head. "I don't know," she starts to step away, but before she can, I take one of her hands in mine. She stares up at me shocked, and fearful.

"Did he hurt you?" I murmur, rubbing my thumb gently over the back of her hand.

She looks down at where our two bodies are touching. Silent tears fill her eyes. She looks so young and fragile I almost wrap her in my arms to protect her, but I know that would only make things worse for her. She nods her head. "He was here...again...a few hours ago..."

One of the women chefs, an older woman with grey hair and robust curves comes and takes the girl in her arms. "Tell them what you know, darlin'." She says. "None of us know 'em, but you can help these people." The sincerity in the woman's voice is evident, and the girl is finally able to look up at us again.

"He likes the park...across the street...that's where he took..." but she stops before finishing. I take her other hand in mine, and she meets my eyes.

"Thank you. We will catch him. I promise. What's your name?"

"Kayla," she responds.

I intake sharply. Kayla. Emily's alias's name. It was probably just a coincidence, but it pulls me back into the reality that if I didn't get to Emily soon enough I could lose her...this time for good.

I lean in and place a gently kiss over Kayla's bruised eye and run out of the restaurant. I can hear JJ and Calvin behind me.

"Call everyone. We've got him. Dogwood Forest," she says into her cellphone, "yes, have this place surrounded. No one leaves."

We've crossed the street but haven't went past the iron fence surrounding the large field yet. I do a quick survey to see if I can see anyone similar to Emily or Jacob. I know this is where she'll be. She wouldn't have left if she didn't have some idea of where she was going. Jacob will be here too, perhaps waiting on her.

There's two more entrances on either side of the field. I motion behind me at both of them. "Each of you take one of those. We wait for back up. Try not to be seen." It wouldn't do much good to hide because Jacob already knows all of our faces, especially mine and JJ's. But the element of surprise is the only thing we have.

JJ and Calvin take off in opposite directions. I lose sight of them for almost half a minute until I see both of them take positions at either entrance. They both shake their heads telling me they can't see Emily.

"Okay," I say into microphone that connects to all three of us, "keep your eyes peeled. If you see him...take the shot, but other than that we wait for back up to move in. He's not getting away this time."

Everything inside me is telling me to charge in there, find her, and kill him. But if I do that, there is the chance he'll kill her anyway. Jacob's probably got eyes on us right now. That thought sends my gaze away from the trees and into the surrounding area. There's a few shops, but the restaurant across the street is the biggest building around.

There are only a couple cars parked along the street. If Jacob's men were watching, they wouldn't have very many places to hide. It seems like a foolish place for him to visit. It's not defensible against an attack like the barn had been. There are no escape roots, no secret ways out, nowhere to hide. It seems like Jacob may have made a deadly mistake.

But I can't underestimate him again. Emily's life depends on that. "JJ, how long on that back up?" I whisper into the microphone.

"Any minute," she replies back.

That's when we hear it. The ear-splitting gunshot that shatters the relative quiet of the park. The next thing I know I'm running through the trees screaming her name.

* * *

EMILY'S POV

The pain is excruciating. It slices across my head, over my eyes blinding me. It shoots lances of electricity through my neck, down my back and into my limbs. My arms fall uselessly at my side. My legs are gone. I can't feel them, and I don't have the mind to try to move them.

All there is is the relentless pain that continuously courses over my skin and shatters my mind. I'm rolling in a deep void, but it's lined with red. I instinctively cling to consciousness, but I know I need to let go. I need to die. I can't remember why, but the small part of me that was still in control knows this. I just can't bring my body to let go.

There's something heavy in my hand. It's cool against the fire of my skin. I think this is the cause of the pain, but this one object keeps me grounded in life. I should let go of it, but I cling to it tighter.

"Is she dead?" A voice rings above me. A shadow moves across the red sea that now covers my vision. The voice sounds a thousand miles away.

"She will be soon." This voice is different. It ignites some other primal instinct in me. It causes a completely different kind of pain that makes my stomach shrivel. It drives me deeper into the darkness, but I hold onto the object in my hand tighter. "Call the rest of the men. Her people will be here soo-" Another shadows dashes into my vision then was gone. Something thudded loud, vibrating the ground then a gut wrenching bang. The sound caused new torrents of pain to shoot across my head threatening to send me over the edge.

"Emily!" Someone shouted. It was a feminine voice, closer than the rest had been. Something warm and comforting takes hold of my hand. "Emily," the voice repeats. The pain intensifies as the voice slowly draws me further back into reality. I can barely stand it, but I know I have to...for this voice...and others...

I want to beg the voice to keep talking, but I can't find my mouth. The voice continues anyway. "You're going to be fine, Emily. You're going to live. Just hold on for us. Don't let go, Emily. Stay with me, girl. C'mon."

Something about this is familiar, but I can't hold onto the feeling long enough to know why. She keeps saying Emily. Is that my name? Is that who I am? I don't think so...there's something else. Another name that's more prominent in my mind, but it washes away before I can grasp it. Still the voice calls to me. "Stay with me," it urges.

And I do. For this voice and the others that I know are waiting for me. I don't know if the pain will ever end, but I can't let go. Someone is depending on me. I can't die. I know I should. There's still the feeling that if I die the voices will be safe, but I selfishly hang on because I can't bear to leave them.

* * *

DEREK'S POV

I follow where I think the sound originated from. There's a shadowy grove where other, thicker trees were planted amongst the dogwoods. I can just barely see two figures. One is on the ground, and one is standing over it. "Emily!" I charge forward catching the standing figure from behind.

My mind registers that this is Jacob just as I slam my body into him. Out of he corner of my eye I see another person standing. I think he's raising a gun, but the next second he is pulled out of my site by someone else: Calvin.

There could be more, but once I hear the breath leave Jacob's body as I collide with him, I become completely focused on him. If I kill him, this is all over. We crush through the bushes and he lands hard on his back. There's another gush of air from him, and I know I have the advantage. It will be precious seconds before he would be able to regain his composure, and I didn't plan on letting him live that long.

While I was running, I had pulled my weapon from its holster. I bring it up, aimed at his face, but his arm rushes up and knocks mine, kicking the gun from my hand. I don't know how he recovered so quickly, but I don't waste any time.

I bring my fist down hard on his face. Red lines my vision, and a warm liquid splashes up on my face. Again, my fist connects. I hear the sound of bone crushing, and feel his face cave under my rage. He gurgles beneath me, and makes one final attempt to save himself.

Both of his hand claw and my face, pushing me away from him. His nails dig into my skin drawing blood, but that only enrages me more. I knock his hands away and grab his neck. We aren't on the pavement, but the hardened ground provides the surface I need. I bring his head inches from the ground and slam it down again.

Again, I hear the sound of bones crunching, but he doesn't stop twitching. The red pulses with life as my rage takes control of me. There is nothing else but us. I don't even remember why I hate this man. I just know he has to die.

With one final blow, his body goes limp, but I don't trust it. I let go of his head and bring my fists down hard on him. Blood splatters over my body and still I can't stop. It's only when his face is unrecognizable that I'm able to pull myself away.

I lay there panting and staring at his bloodied, disfigured face for several seconds until the red disappears. My ears ring for even longer. The first sound I hear is JJ's voice. "Emily, c'mon, fight." She whispers.

There's a blur of movement and then I'm kneeling over her. Hands that can't be mine because they are so swollen and stained with blood, draw her closer. Her face is smeared red. Blood matts her hair and eyebrows. I can hear her breathing, but it's so forced I know it can't last much longer.

Through all the blood I can't find the wound, but I know it must be the gunshot I heard. I'm completely numb, but I feel cool tears running down my cheeks. "Emily."

Her eyes flutter open then close again. "Derek..."

I hold her until the medic comes and pries her from my arms. Robotically, JJ leads me to the ambulance where I accompany her to the hospital.

* * *

Again with the cliff hangers? I'm an awful human being. Tell me what you think!


End file.
